The Pyrokinetic with Pyrophobia
by Monkey Ruler
Summary: Emily Perkins, named after actress Emily Perkins, has one little tiny secret she tries to keep hidden, and fails the first day of school. Sucks, right? WarrenOC ish with a hint of X-Men
1. Your Heart

It was pathetic.

Not only was I going to a school where I could hone the powers I hate, but it was filled with bright colored stereotypical students who's tackiness seemed to be even greater when they were able to fly.

This was her first day at the prestigious Sky High? Strange looking teachers and a coach with too small shorts staring at her in dark sunglasses trying to feel important? If you asked her, that man was overcompensating for something.

"Name."

"Emily Perkins."

"Power up." He said in a tone that demanded authority.

"Sorry, but I don't want to." I said humbly, smiling.

The students beneath me gasped dramatically from the gymnasium floor. Maybe Coach Boomer had this big pedestal to feel more important than he actually was, again overcompensating for something.

"Oh, an attitude, huh?"

"No, I just don't really like using my powers. And I'd rather not waste my efforts promoting this sick popularity contest."

"A smart aleck too."

"Listen, how about I tell you about my powers and you can see if you think they're important or not to label me a hero."

"Sure. Shoot." He tilted backwards and crossed his arm as if he was patronizing me.

"I'm a pyrokinetic. I have the ability to manipulate flames into any shape I want. Would you like me to describe how it all works too? Simply put-"

He raised an eyebrow, took a walkie-talkie out of his pocket, and yelled out "flamethrower". Up from who knows where, a giant flamethrower that resembled a bazooka fell into his awaiting hands and he let it fire at me. Notice the pun? Let it "fire" at me? I'm a literary genius, I know it.

Anyway, I screamed, threw out my hands, and the flames turned into a giant lion's head and roared at the stupid egotistical coach. He leaned back slightly to avoid the massive flames and wrote something down as it slowly disappeared.

"Hero." He said simply, as if nothing happened. But things did happen, yes. Now I have a headache from extinguishing the fire before your sorry ass got burned.

I glared at him and stalked back into the crowd, screaming loud obscenities in my head. Seriously, how _dare _he attack a person with fire who has pyrophobia?

Author's Note: I think I have way too many stories with original characters. But I couldn't help myself. The idea of a pyrokinetic afraid of fire just makes me laugh. It took guts to post it, dude.


	2. It Beats

Lunchtime. The bright lights, the bustling energy, the crappy food. Why does the world hate students so much to curse them with this? I noticed a girl actually capable of wearing the color black sneering towards the brightest filled table with cheerleaders and headed for her straight away. 

"Hello." I set my tray down next to the girl obsessed with purple and greeted her with a brief smile.

"Who are you?" She asked, scoffing.

"Someone looking for someone who's insight of the school has a cynical view. I thought by your sneer towards the quote 'popular table' unquote that you would be one of the few I deemed worthy for my friendship. Either that or I'd mercilessly torture that antisocial boy with his own table into filling the position I considered giving to you."

"And what position is that?" She asked, giving a small glance towards said antisocial boy and smirking. She probably knew him.

"Why, the job of being my guide towards school. Most people call the position being my friend, but other people hate me too much to say so."

"I can tell you're a popular one." A boy wearing red, white, and blue with a brown bowl cut said cheerfully.

"Ugh, you're so patriotic it burns." I sneered, unable to stand the sight of his wardrobe choice, "You need to learn a thing or two about the faults of our lovely country. I'd clue you in if someone cut out my eyes." I looked around at the table and spotted a nerd, another blinding person, and a tree hugger, "Never mind. I'll take my chances with the scary looking boy."

I left as soon as I could, squinting slightly to avoid staring at the bright colors.

"That was..." Layla paused, unable to think of a word other than "unusual."

"Hi." I said rather cheerfully for someone of my status. Or lack thereof.

"The tables off limits." The boy growled, failing in my eyes to look even remotely threatening.

"Okay." I replied, beginning to eat my food. I think I was eating tapioca... or corn.

"Aren't you going to go?"

"Nope."

"Yet you comprehend the fact that the table is off limits."

"Well yes, I comprehend it, but do you expect me to abide by your rules when the preps and jocks have already laid down countless unwritten laws I'm supposed to follow too? I'd rather not follow any rules than take time out of my day to tiptoe around other students egos when I can do what I want and feed mine." If he was anything like the other ice cubes I've crushed, he would respect my little speech and in turn grant me access to his... table. It was like we were all animals.

"Go... away." Okay, maybe he was a really big ice cube. I must chisel more.

"Sorry, but I'd rather not." Maybe I would find out what his powers were too.

A fireball appeared in his hands and I squeaked, a habit I thought I'd gotten rid of.

"Eep." I said in a whisper, cursing that this was the _second _time I was threatened with fire when I've managed to avoid looking at it altogether for two years, three weeks, and six days.

"You'll get used to it if you choose to stay here." He sneered, ignoring the fact that all the cafeteria was staring at us by now and closing his palm over the ball of evil.

I took a deep breath, counted to ten, and opened my eye.

"I'd prefer not accustoming myself to that." I said snottily, mimicking a movie I once saw, "So I'd appreciate it if you'd never ever do that again."

"You can't even say fire."

"Why would I want to?"

"Why can't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Say it."

"It."

"Say fire?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"You're acting immature."

"You can't even say a four letter word."

"Why can't I?"

"How should I know how your brain works?"

"I don't know, you seem to think pretty high of yourself."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Please, a table all to yourself where you can command anyone who wishes to sit down to leave? They all obey you, take extra precautions never to touch you, because they _fear _you, like scared little subjects a king would order around. A pretty low thing if you ask me, my lord."

"You know nothing about me."

"Likewise, your highness." I gave him a little smirk, pretty sure if there were little river dancers in my eyes they'd be doing a jig by now.

"I'd rather be the feared king of the school rather than a freshman who goes out of her way to prove that she can do whatever she wants when really all she wants to do is hide underneath the table she's sitting in and cry."

I leaned over the table aside and punched him in the jaw. He quickly retaliated by starting to fire up, something I knew he would do. Instead I manipulated the fire into a snake and had it slither to the floor, leaving a scorch mark on the white tile. I may be piss scared of fire, but I was annoyed by him even more.

"Don't attack the pyrokinetic with _fire_." I spat, proving to him that I wasn't afraid of a word. Just the actual thing. The snake floated up to the table and dunked itself into my glass of water. Good, the fire's gone now, "That would be stupid."

I sat down calmly, not even noticing I stood up when I punched him, and started to eat my mystery mush. Guess the analyzing could work both ways. Who figured?

"Spoiled brat." He muttered, also sitting back down.

Both of us sent a glare to the crowd at the same time, neither noticing what the other was doing, and the audience went back to their own food, starting up conversations of nothing.

"Conceited jerk."

"You're afraid of fire."

"What gave you that idea? I'm a pyrokinetic, how can I be afraid of fire?" And how the hell could he tell?

"First of all, you could only say fire when you wanted to prove to me you weren't weak."

I scoffed.

"Secondly," Who says 'secondly'? A wimpy literature man, that's who. And me. Dammit, "Don't think I didn't hear you sigh in relief once you dipped the fire into water and it went away. And third, you didn't even go near the fire. You backed up whenever I lit up."

I sighed, rather loudly. That guy was good.

"Okay, _first of all_," Mocking was oh so fun, "Tell anyone and I'll follow you around and make sure your powers will never work properly again. Second of all, I have a perfectly legitimate reason for being absolutely terrified of fire _and _of my powers, which just so happen to control fire." Lucky me, "Ironic, right? Third, I'm not going to be telling you, ever, the reason I'm afraid of fire, because that reason is mine, my own, and my parents. Fourthly, yes, I have yet another thing, don't think I'm not going to try and get you back for calling me on this _and _for trying to burn me to a crisp." I stood up along with my tray where I promptly dumped the food into the trashcan conveniently right next to me. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and curtsied with a mocking smile.

"I'll see you later."

The strange thing was, I never even learned the boy's name.

**Author's Note**: No, this is _not _going to be a Warren/OC fic. Nooooo, I suck at that stuff. And it's too expected of an OC Sky High fic. No pairings. Yes, Warren will be in the story alot, but no smoochy accidental pregnancy. Nooo.


	3. Ever Slowly

Oh my god, fifth period was so damn _creepy_. It was taught by this guy with an absolutely _enormous_ head. And he was so creepy! Besides his abnormally large head, of course. And he had this weird Lilo and Stitch voice, emphasis on the Stitch. And his lab coat reminded me of a dress. He was mad, I swear. Well, it was called Mad Science class, it's expected to have a mad scientist as a teacher. 

The first day? He was teaching us about the basic structure of Freeze Rays.

Seriously, it was insane.

"Miss Perkins! Since you seem so hypnotized about the lesson, will you tell me the most important component in the construction of a Freeze Ray?" Pfft, he was only picking on me because I was staring at his abnormal head.

"Uh... ice?" I said meekly.

"Correct!" I sighed, "Good thing you were able to absorb some of the information into your small mind!"

Absolutely. Insane.

The bell rang and I ran out of it, my backpack barely on my shoulders as I rushed to the class right next to Science. I looked ahead of time and noticed my sixth period was neighbors with fifth period.

History of Art.

I looked at a relatively young man with long black hair in a low ponytail and a goatee with glowing golden eyes and black dress clothes. Not _dress _clothes, but formal clothes, like a silky button up shirt and black dress pants.

He was hot.

I shook my head. I will not like this class just because the teacher is drop dead gorgeous.

I sat down and waited for the bell to ring and the rest of the students to sit down wherever they wanted.

Immediately, he started off by saying his name, Mr. Erick, and asking if anyone knew who Hieronymus Bosch was. Timidly, I was the only person to raise my hand into the air.

"Great, what's your name?"

"Emily Perkins."

"What do you know about Bosch?"

"He was a little crazy, and a lot of his paintings revolved around sin, using demons, half-human animals, and machines to portray the evil of mankind. One of his most famous paintings was a triptych called the Garden of Earthly Delights, depicting the creation of Earth, the left being the Garden of Eden, the center the Garden of Earthly Delights, what the whole thing was named after, and the right being a really creepy painting called Hell."

"Huh, I wonder if there's anything left to teach." I blushed and slid down in my seat.

He sat on his desk and with a wave of his hand, a screen came down showing the Garden of Earthly Delights.

"Now, as Emily already said, the middle is called the Garden of Earthly Delights. Any guesses as to what it means?"

A boy raised his hand.

"Whats your name?"

"Quinn. Does it mean that Bosch thought nude beaches were fun?"

"Nice try, but no. Try comparing it to the left. What does the center seem like?"

"Chaos." Quinn replied.

"Better. Emily, what do you think?"

Blushing, I straightened in my seat, "I read that it shows the descent of humanity into sin."

"Right again. You, in the green, what's your name?"

"Janice."

"Janice, look at the woman underneath the birds chair on the right panel. What's she doing?"

Janice squinted before answering, "Sleeping while being molested by some wolf thing."

"And what is the wolf thing doing?"

"Staring at a shiny butt."

"Do you think that the shiny butt could represent a mirror?"

"Yeah, a messed up mirror."

"What do you think the monster holding onto the unconscious woman is?"

"I dunno, demon?"

"And why would the demon be looking into a mirror while holding the woman?"

"Cause it likes it's reflection?"

"Did you know that vanity, or pride, is one of the seven deadly sins?"

"So it's committing a sin while feeling up the lady?"

This girl had no shame.

"The woman in hell who had to commit a sin to get there."

"Oh, so the demon is her sin personified?" And we have a winner!

I think I was going to like this class.

* * *

"Nice going in class, you knew everything." Someone complimented me as I was walking out of the room. I turned around to face Quinn. His hair was practically white and spiked, along with his eyes and skin. His eyes were silver, not spiked, and his skin was extremely pale. It would be impossible if he was spiked. Unless he was Spike Boy. His clothes were strictly either black, white, or the occasional silver caused by shiny metal, "I'm Quinn." A fact I was well aware of, genius.

"Emily." I replied, shaking his hand with black chipped nailpolish. His hand was almost identical to mine, except my hand was less manly, had atleast _some _skin color, and wasn't hairy.

"Want to go out sometime?" He asked, staring into my eyes. His silver orbs seemed to glow slightly and I blinked a few times.

"Um..."

"Come on, say yes."

"Yes." I said automatically, without any thought.

"Good. Kiss me." I leaned in slightly and prepared to kiss him before Mr. Erick slapped Quinn across the head with his newspaper. I jumped back a few feet and mentally slapped myself. What the hell was I thinking?

"How about you don't use your powers on unsuspecting girls?" He said with a smirk.

"What?" I asked, frowning, "His powers make people kiss people? Great crimefighting skill."

"No, his powers are voice activated. He can make anyone do anything he wants if he tells them to."

"How come no one gagged him?" I frowned even more.

"Because so far he hasn't killed somebody."

"Hey, I'm still alive you know." Quinn muttered.

"We know. Go on, you two are going to miss the bus."

After a wave and a goodbye we started walking down hallways with a couple students heading our direction.

"So..." Quinn said, breaking the delicate silence between us two, "You still up for that date?"

SLAP!

"A simple no would do."

Author's Note: Ah, Quinn. Made from powers seen on Supernatural, Quicksilver's white hair, and general stupidity from friends at school. Emily's new sort of friend. No real purpose to the chapter, it's okay if you hate it. Just introducing people and Emily's view on them.


	4. Your Cold Blood

Yes! Today I would finally meet my History teacher! 

Oh my god, I sound like a geek.

It's not my fault, but yesterday we had a substitute. Old guy, spots on his head. He said that the actual teacher would be here today, the second day of school. Tuesday. And I heard from the teachers that the guy was wild. Well, not wild, but a lot of words with many syllables that were basic synonyms for _insane_. Like how his teaching methods were 'utterly preposterous' and 'ludicrous'. And I don't mean the rapper. Teachers who are bad in the eyes of other teachers are wonderful in the eyes of students.

I have decided that until further notice, this class will be one of my favorite subjects.

The bell rang, meaning it was time for first period. I, of course, was already waiting at the classroom for lack of anything better to do.

The History teacher opened the door, almost crushing me and mumbling a short apology, and posed with his hands on his hips, looking at the small group of freshman staring at him.

"Ah, so this is my first class, eh?" He said in some strange mix of English and... Canadian 'eh's.

I stared at him with a raised eyebrow. He looked like... Johnny Depp. Only with very subtle differences. Like his lack of glasses, his young age, eyeliner. His hair was as perfect as Johnny Depp's, but his smile had a few silver teeth. He wore a loose white button up shirt and black denim jeans with shiny shoes and a few bracelets on his hand that looked old. Real old.

"Call me Mr. Raven." He said with a grin.

Great! Two attractive male teachers. I'm loving this school already.

I was pathetic, wasn't I?

The students made their way to any seat they wanted, some eager and some already hoping that the day was over. Guess what category I fell into?

"Class, we're going to be taking a look at.." He paused for dramatics, sauntering to the front of the class with ease, "Pirates."

I wasn't the only one who broke out into a grin.

He didn't do much but talk the entire time. Sounds pretty boring, but he had a way of making things interesting. He started ranting on about Captain Jack Sparrow, one of the 'greatest pirates to sail the ocean' and making all these insane hand gestures. No, he didn't flip everyone off multiple times. He just waved his hands alot.

At the end of class, he said something about a field trip near the end of the year. Sounds promising.

* * *

Gym class. Second period. Big waste of time. All of those are different names for the same thing.

I don't like the uniforms. At least in middle school the shorts were black even though the shirt was bright yellow. Kind of like bumble bees. Now it's light blue and white.

Gym didn't separate students by grade. They just put them in a big giant classroom and had Coach Boomer order us around. Right now I was hiding in a corner with a basketball, trying to look like I was busy when I wasn't doing anything at all.

"Hi! Sorry we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, I'm Layla!" I stared at her blankly. Red hair, green clothes. Reminds me of Batman. Poison Ivy.

"You don't strike a memory."

"At lunch."

"Oh, you're hippie girl who was sitting too close to the patriotic boy to be just friends." I said, remembering her, "What do you mean wrong foot? I just couldn't stand looking at Wonder Glow and All-American boy. You're okay."

"Great! Do you want to eat lunch with us today?"

"If I get sunglasses. I think I'll eat with antisocial boy again."

"Really? I don't think he likes you that much. When I asked him about you he threatened to roast me alive."

"That's not very nice."

"That's exactly what I said. Do you mind if we're partners?"

"Sure, I don't know anyone else and we have to partner with someone from a different class or whatever."

"As in I'm a sidekick, you're a hero?"

"Yeah. It's pretty dumb though, if you ask me." I said as we started throwing a basketball back and forth.

"Basketball?"

"No, this whole sidekick and superhero thing. They're only exaggerating the lines that separate normal students today.

"But at the same time they claim to want nothing more than happy children who are friends with everyone."

"It's a flawed system." The two of us said in unison and I smiled.

"Let me guess, you have awesome powers but you refused to show them, in which case Boom Boom sorted you into the sidekick class?"

"Yeah. I tried to explain to him that I only use my powers when the situation demands it, but he wouldn't listen."

"Right on." I smiled. The hippie wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Lunchtime. The time that's crucial for people who want to be popular. As in not me. They have to worry about where they sit, whether the people around them are "good enough" for them. It's all a load of... what's the funny word that sounds like relish? Oh yeah. Rubbish.

I already knew where I was going to sit, and I didn't care what people thought about it, including the person who I was going to sit with.

Antisocial boy was already sitting in his spot when I sat down across from him smiling. He groaned before continuing on with his book. It was weird how he didn't eat. Was he anorexic? He was too muscley to be anorexic. But was he really muscley? He was wearing a baggy black shirt with a leather jacket, he wasn't exactly shirtless. He could just be bulging with fat in places where muscle should be.

Discarding thoughts of possible muscular fire starters, I took a bento box out of her backpack and a pair of blue chopsticks, immediately digging into my food. I don't trust those "Hero Burgers".

He stared at me strangely and I frowned.

"What? It's soboro. Want some?" I offered my chicken filled chopsticks to the sneering pyromaniac.

"How do you cook?" I gave him my best are-you-stupid look and smiled.

"Oh, first I let the rice soak in water for awhile. That's the key to the best sticky rice. Leave it for about twenty minutes and it'll be perfect. Then, when that's cooking-"

"I meant how can you cook when you're afraid of fire."

"I have an electric stove. And I don't barbecue."

"So what happens when you see a fire?"

"The hobos suddenly become cold while I run away screaming like the maniac I am." I sneered, taking in more mouthfuls of egg.

I took this time to look at him, _really _look at him, and saw shoulder length hair with a few red streaks running through it. Before I thought it was just black, but if you really stopped and stared you could tell it was just really dark brown hair. Usually I sneered at big foreheads, but it seemed to suit him. At least he didn't have overwhelming eyebrows to match his big head. He had dark enchanting eyes with flecks of brown shining through his hair. I had a feeling that it wasn't bulging fat that looked like muscle, but actually muscle that the shirt would show whenever it moved against him. So he was lean, but in shape, extremely in shape.

Dang, he's hot.

"What are you staring at?"

"Nothing. Just studying my opponent."

Author's Note: 'Ello! I don't know what classes they actually take in Sky High. I know Mad Science, and Gym, but do they take any other classes? Do they have electives? The only classes I made up so far were just because I, myself, want to take those classes in real life. History is taught by Captain Jack Sparrow, in case you didn't figure that out.

So, gimme ideas on what classes there should be and who they should be taught by. Should Math by taught by a skinny man with long furry spider legs coming out of his back with bottle cap glasses?


	5. Leaks From Your Veins

So far in school the only thing I looked forward to was lunch and learning. Besides looking at freaking lookin' teachers. What was wrong with me? I was actually enjoying about half of the classes. Bad freshman. Bad bad freshman. I'll go hit myself just to snap out of my academic happy trance.

Or I could just look at my math teacher.

He had small, rounded black eyes with matching bottle cap glasses and long hairy black spider legs sprouting out of his spinal cord with no regard for his lab coat. His hair screamed Einstein, only it was black and not as thin. As he spoke about quantum theories or whatever was on his agenda his voice rolled a bit in his medium high pitch voice that reminded her of the old cartoons that used to show on Saturday mornings. TV land. Sigh, I missed that channel. What happened to it again? Oh yeah, waking up at two in the afternoon. I'll try to get up earlier.

His voice was like the Jetsons. Or did the voice remind me of the Flinstones? She needed to brush up on small, intellectual voices from old cartoons.

The bell rung and I shook my head, thoughts of strange looking teachers flying from my mind.

Time for my favorite past time.

I really needed a life if the only thing I enjoyed was talking to Peace. His name is Peace, yet he is the opposite. You would die of shock.. or laughter.. if he did anything remotely peaceful. Yet he allows me to invade his space on a daily basis. Two days so far. Three if he lets me bug him today.

"Hi, gorgeous." I tainted my greeting with a ridiculous Boston accent, making my semi-compliment seem cheesy and overrated. Just how I wanted it.

"You're certifiable." He mumbled while reading his book.

"Do you eat? Just wondering." I asked, taking out my bento box.

"I get free dinner." He stated. Apparently he wasn't one for long heartfelt conversations about his feelings. Thank god for that.

"So you skip lunch?"

"Not hungry during the day."

"You skip breakfast too? You're more anorexic then my friend's cousin's best friend's brother's girlfriend who's dream is to be a model." He stared, "Her diet consists of Special K, and even then she has breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Do you get kicks out of making yourself seem like a stupid ditzy teenager with your aimless rambling?" Aw, that means he thinks I'm smart!

"Sometimes. Others it's just a force of habit." I shoved my half eaten teriyaki and rice towards him and glared, "Eat."

"Your leftovers?"

"Hell no, I'm hungry dammit. But you are too, despite your lack of knowledge when it comes to your stomach. So I'm going to force you to eat."

"Hell no." He mocked.

"You're an ass. Now eat."

"Flattery will get you know where." He smirked and I mock gasped.

"Did you sort of not really make a _joke_?"

"Don't push it."

And to my surprise, he actually started eating my awesome Japanese cooking.

Boy, that kid was _whipped._

**Author's Apologies: **Sorry it's been a long time since I updated, and it's so short too. I'm having a bit of a writer's block. Or just creative block in general. Blame it on family or whatever. I'll try and post a chapter for the wonderful Kira and her Harry Potter situation soon.


	6. Your Life Retreats

Guess what, readers? It was gym again. Ugh, I'd rather stare at Mr. Sparrow talk about pirates and the evils of the East India Trading Company. He might be drunk, though. He has that slur and walks, no, _swaggers, _around with his hands all... flamboyant. Is it possible that I could be attracted to that? Eh, who am I kidding. Half of the female population is head over heels for him. The rest of them just thinks that he's a stinky old drunk. 

So now I am in Gym. I found Fire Boy there, apparently everyone in the whole entire school gets to cram themselves in the gymnasium second period and yet no one ever notices each other, or I didn't notice anyone, until... today. We're sitting in chairs and looking at some weird stadium that replaced our lovely, as in horrible, gym. Are we going to see lions attack super-gladiators? Maybe they'll be super lions too. Super-powered beings thrashing at each other with no mercy!

Oh, there's an obstacle course. This just screams competitive sport unknown by the stupid little freshman.

"Warren? What are we staring at?" I asked, ignoring the weird colored people I met on the first day of school. Well, I was talking to Magenta and Layla before, they're okay. But... the other three... they burn my eyes.

"The area for Save the Citizen." He grumbled. Sounds familiar, maybe Boomer explained it but I wasn't paying attention. I can't look at the guy, his shorts are too short.

"Wait, how does this game work again?" He rolled his eyes and waved a hand at the stage thing below us.

"Two pairs of students walk into the ring, one team dubbed hero and the others dubbed villains. Then the heroes try and save the dummy from being shredded while the villains try and stop the heroes."

"That seems easy."

"Sure, whatever you think. Coach Boom gets to pick a team and then the team he chooses gets to pick whether they're heroes or villains and who their opponents are."

"Hothead! Get down to the ring!" Coach Boomer yelled.

"Looks like you'll be getting firsthand experience." Warren smirked.

My face dropped, "Wait, what?"

Warren was already in the ring and suited up, a smirk on his face.

"I choose Perkins!" He yelled up to Boomer.

And I was frozen to the spot. As in seat. Wha? I thought Coach Boom Boom chose teams, not chose one person and leave him to choose someone to share the torture.

"Hey, fire girl! Get down there, that blue dye won't hide you for long." Did he just mock my hair? That Coach was dead. In my thoughts.

"I have to save the fricking citizen? No way." I muttered to myself, "Let the fricking dummy save himself."

Two boys were hopelessly dodging Warren's constant stream of fireballs. I felt sorry for them, yet at the same time I could care less. I had a dummy to save.

So, I was slowly inching away while Warren flew countless fireballs at our opponents. I didn't really know them, at all. One guy looked like he had tentacles and the other one looked like he was powerless.

That was, until, of course, he teleported in front of me with a big giant grin.

"Okay, that's just not cool." I stated. I was only a few feet away from the big giant scissor machine that was going to chop the dummy up in, I spared a glance at the clock, two minutes, then he just pops up and ruins it?

"Sorry, love, but Oi'm not one tah be courtieous." He spoke in a strange mix of an Australian and English accent.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I did the same?" He rose an eyebrow and I kicked him in the gut, watching him fly a few inches back and then grabbing his shoulder and yanking him away from the machine that could ruin his pretty dirty blond hair. I started to climb up and was about to grab the stupid thing when I felt arms wrap around me and in the next second I was next to tentacle boy and dodging fireballs.

"Oh screw this." I said finally, avoiding the wriggling limbs and running back over to Warren, "Is throwing fireballs the only thing you can do?"

"I create fire, I don't control it."

"I hate Boomer." I muttered, grabbing a fireball out of his hand, wincing, and watching it morph into a firing horseman and charge at the unsuspecting villains, changing it into a wall of fire at the last second. The fire slowly spread to everywhere in the arena except for the dummy.

"If you try and teleport outta there, then you must be stupid." I yelled clearly, hoping he'd take my warning seriously, "Fire sucks." I said, making my way through the flames. Warren ran past me, clearly indestructible when it came to fire. Darn, my plan to destroy him with the very fire that he created is obsolete.

I seemed to be wincing a lot. At the feel of the fire licking at my skin and singing my clothes, the warmth, the _light_. I hated it, I especially hated that I didn't hate it, therefore as soon as Warren yelled that he got the dummy, I made it all go away.

As far as the audience could tell, the flames suddenly disappeared, the villains were scared to death of the fire surrounding them, and the two fire related heroes were carrying a slightly singed dummy. And the blue haired girl was twitching and rubbing her arms.

"Heroes win." Boomer said uncertainly.

"Great, I never want to play this again." I think I'm going to go and throw up now.

"Now, since we established that you two can work well together, split up and pick a partner."

I looked pleadingly at Warren and he shrugged, yelling out "Stronghold!"

"You picked Captain America?"

"He has super strength and can fly."

"Shit."

"Exactly. Prepare to lose."

"I chose a guy who has telekinesis!" I yelled out desperately, hearing no one come forward, "No one can move objects with their minds?" Silence. This was getting embarrassing. Especially since Warren was smirking at me. Again. "Fine! I choose boy who tried to seduce me on the first day of school!"

"My name is Quinn!" A boy with spiked blond hair shouted from the stands before running off to change.

"What's he going to do?" Will asked, stepping into the ring in battle clothes, "Molest people?"

"Ha, you wish." I smirked.

"Stronghold, heroes or villains?" I pouted. How come they get to choose? Sexist.

"Heroes." Will answered automatically.

"Of course you are." Boomer said as Quinn came running into the ring, "Aaaaaand, you have three minutes!"

I rolled my eyes, "Quinn, tell Will to stop flying."

"Will, stop flying."

Automatically Will dropped from the sky like a dead fly.

"What happened?" Will said, jumping up and trying to fly. And looking like an idiot. Jumpy jumpy jumpy.

"Quinn controls people with his voice." I said happily, "I don't know why I thought of a telekinetic before a boy who had me try and kiss him."

Warren rolled his eyes and flamed up, throwing a fireball at Quinn.

"Hey, stop!" Quinn yelled, immediately being saved from the onslaught of fire.

Warren, however, dropped to the floor in wild spasms. The game was forgotten by me and I rushed to him, glaring at Quinn.

"You told him to stop everything, idiot! Tell him to live!"

"Uh, live, man! Breathe! Exist!" Warren took in a huge breath and I sighed.

That was an extremely short game.

Will was running towards the dummy now that his partner was safe and I took a little bit of the fire that was still on Warren's hand and had it fly towards the dummy, burning the rope it was tied up by and falling towards the slicing machine of doom.

Ha, I still won.

And the crowd was either really bored or laughing at the bizarre game.

"Hey, sorry about that." Quinn said, "I wasn't used to having large amounts of fire thrown at me."

"It's fine, freshman." Warren growled, standing up shakily.

"Ugh, now I really feel like throwing up." I moaned.

"You're not the one who almost died."

"It was a shocking experience, okay? I don't do well with bad feelings." My head started pounding and I tumbled into someone.

Hey, who turned off the lights?

**Author's Note**

So... this chapter sucks, and the next chapter might be the same random loserness, but the chapter after that _will _have things happen. Who knows? Maybe I'll cram things into the second chapter too.


	7. Ever Quickly

Damn, who turned on the lights?

Note to self-- never make groans sounding like wounded seals giving birth to rocks with a hangover. Good thing attractive boys aren't anywhere around.

Crap! What if there are attractive boys!

Ow, the lights are even brighter when my eyes are _open_.

How come my mental notes aren't being reinforced when bright lights are involved.

Note to self -- get over mental instability where bright lights are involved.

Ugh, hospital lights. They're always the brightest type of light that you can be bombarded with as soon as your mind decides to process the thing blaring down on your closed eyes. I hate the stupid little buggers.

Ugh, what happened?

"Hello, dearie!" I could tell by the voice she was old. No one in their twenties would call someone dearie, "How are you feeling?"

"Turn off the bloody lights."

"You'll get used to them." Tough old nurse, "Now sit up and let me take your temperature."

"How bad is it, Doc? Am I gonna make it back to the home?"

"You fainted." I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever, it's just passing out."

"From overexherting your powers."

"Did not!" I pouted.

"Well not many people pass out after drenching the arena with fire and suddenly putting it out. Luckily that boy Peace was kind enough to carry you in."

Peace?

Lucky?

Boy?

Kind?

Carry?

... In?

"Yippee ki yay." I muttered, a thermometer immediately being jammed into my mouth.

And she kept talking.

"Principle Powers says that you are to have private lessons with someone who's powers are similar to yours so you can hone your skills, because apparently from your Power Development classes you do not know your own limits." Does that mean... no more Power Development classes? YES!

* * *

"Hey, Peace. The nurse said you don't have to sit on the uncomfortable chair anymore. She's in the office inside her office doing paperwork or something." Thankfully I wasn't wearing one of those stupid paper gowns, I was in my own clothes, minus the armor. My gym clothes. Hey, where were my actual clothes? Gym bag, where are you?

In his hand. Wow, that's embarrassing.

"How you doing?" Don't worry, he didn't sound like Joey from Friends at all, minus the lack of emotion he sounded sincere and worried.

"Aw, do you care about me?"

"No." I blinked. He said that with a completely straight face, no scowling or smirking.

"Creepy. Have you ever considered acting? You show absolutely no emotions at all."

"No."

"Is that all you know how to say?"

"No." Ah, he smirked!

"Are you dating Patriotic Boy?"

"No." His eyes twitched and his smirk disappeared.

"Are you sort of completely not really not madly in love with Patriotic Boy?" He blinked.

"I'm not going to even try to translate that."

"Your silence is all the answer I need."

He rolled his eyes.

"The nurse said you carried me in."

"Coach Boomer told me to after you fell on me." Ah, so that's who that was.

"But you stayed," Ha, deny _that _sucker!

"I'm wasting time."

"Meanie."

"Come on, you have ten minutes left until you have to go to third period." I groaned and leaned back, my gym clothes crinkling the paper I was forced to sit on.

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want to skip class?"

I sighed in resignation and reached for the pile of my actual clothes, I could tell they were mine because it was a clump of blue and black, and made my way to the bathroom. Aaand... his leather clad arm stopped me.

"That was a question, freshman." I raised an eyebrow at his smirk.

* * *

"This is a stupid way to skip class."

We were sitting at the back of the school, huddled in the shade, listening to his outdated iPod.

He does know some good bands, though.

"I'm sorry, did you want to go somewhere off campus?" He asked with a glare, "It's only a thousand foot drop."

"That'll seem like a dream compared to where you'll be going."

Greeaaat, the _gym _teacher caught us.


	8. As Memories Begin to Fade

_Dear little black book._

_No, not __**that **__type of black book. Ew. Just ew. And you're not a diary either, Bob, seriously. You are the__ book my male parental unit gave me to write down events that have passed. You are a book that is little, black, and a book. A notebook. For notes._

_I am so far unimpressed with my journey in Sky High so far. I mean, I was planning for my life in high school to be the stereotypical chick flick movies. Not that I watch them of course, heh heh. That would be silly._

_But my life has fallen into a... **routine!** Horrifying, I know. I wake up, get dressed in clothing that is either black, white, blue, or a mixture of all three. Then I have a bowl of cereal, kiss the male parental unit on the cheek, and walk to the bus where I will sit exactly in the middle, fourth row, window seat. A girl who goes by the name of Betty, fellow freshman who has thick black rimmed glasses and wears dark Earth colors along with the occasional yellow shirt, will sit next to me, because frankly we both have no friends._

_Then I will go to History and listen to Mr. Sparrow talk about his exciting tales of espionage. That sentence made no sense. History class, not James Bond 101. Most of the female population will swoon, most of the male population will scoff at the female species._

_Gym will be next, where I will pretend to look like I'm doing something while being partnered up with Layla, by choice of course, and discuss the faults of humanity and their impact on the environment. Magenta will occasionally join in the conversation when not with Zach, who is apparently not her boyfriend at all from the 'where'd you get that idea', 'as if', and 'no offense sweetie.'_

_Then it's free period for the whole school! I think it might be recess, or brunch, but who knows what they call it? On the schedule it says Break. There I will be in the library reading books on whatever. But I'm not a nerd. Heh._

_And they made this funny little class called "Power Development" hosted by some yoga teacher named Ms. Wind, but her powers are agility and heightened senses, not anything having to do with air. Her parents were hippies, probably. There, we **find our center**, because every power has to do with control. Unless you're Patriotic Boy or Glow Stick. Or worse, Speaking Man: the Gym Teacher of God. Their powers are all on the subconscious level, it happens automatically with just the thought. But Windy still has us meditate half the class. She tried to make me demonstrate my powers for her, but I just glared. Then she tried again. Then I glared and said 'no.' Politely. Then she tried again, I screamed in her face, and I got detention. For three days. And now since I skipped that insane class they added two weeks to my sentence along with Saturday School._

_Guess where I am right now?_

_Eh, my daddy still loves me._

_Warren's definition of skipping school sucked. Since we're two pyro-related supers instead of flying Patriotic Boys, he couldn't think of some brilliant plan to actually get us off the campus in the sky. We just hid in the back of the school and listened to his walkman until the bell rang. God, he could have had a plan at least!_

_Oh, yeah, fourth period. Math. I don't know if I'm in an advanced class or not, but dang, it's boring. I don't learn anything from the teacher, because his face just gives me the creeps, so I have to cram every night after school to do my homework. Good thing that things like to stick in my head... whether I like it or not. But they hath sticketh in my head._

_I've made it a tradition to sit across from Warren, feed him half of my meal (which he actually eats!), and ask him his opinion of it. He has his own language, from the few weeks of school we've had so far. Apparently 'whatever' means 'it was good', 'it was okay' means 'that's some tasty shit', and 'ugh' means 'Not your best work. Lay off the pepper, woman!' His opinions of my creations have done my ego good._

_Mr. Medulla still scares me in fifth period, of course. And he likes to criticize me. A lot. But he stares at me when I work, so I can't help it if I constantly blow up under pressure! Or... blow things up._

_I think my History of Art teacher is God. Or a vampire. He's... perfect. Personality-wise and in the looks department._

_I think Janice, this red head who claims she's on the road to becoming an 'actress' and changing her style every day, is my friend. The first day of school she was a tree hugger, the next a trendy pop star in shiny clothes, a Britney Spears theme of course, the next she was Queen of the Amazon or something. Today she wore a **leather catsuit** and called herself Selena Kyle. Her personality doesn't change when class starts, but as soon as we're not learning things she plays the part of her costume._

_Quinn has taken the habit of bugging me, though. Every time I raise my hand to say something, he calls me the Teacher's Pet, when I move my head the slightest inch he hits me with a spit ball, and he pokes the back of my head, or tells other people to poke my head. Which obviously they have no control over. He made me poke myself in the head once. And my nails **hurt**. Mr. Erick has slapped him upside the head multiple times, though. I don't think Quinn's mind control works on him, either because he's God or a vampire. But I saw Quinn work his magic on multiple teachers without them knowing it, and so far Quinn has had three detentions issued by Mr. Erick._

_God, he's awesome. Not Quinn, he's an ass, but Mr. Erick. With a **k**._

"You really are certifiable." I snapped my head, almost giving myself whiplash, and glared at Warren who was standing over my shoulder and reading my dia_-book!_

"Do you have no sense of privacy!?"

"You were writing, I don't care." Which was of course "Warrenese" for 'You weren't paying attention to me and I was curious what you were writing about.'

"Well, if you don't care, then why don't you sit in your own white desk and leave my paper alone!"

"Whatever." 'That hurt, Emily, of course I care! I wuuuuv you!' Okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration.

_Anyway, back to the schedule. And I do not sound like a ditzy teenager on a blog! Stupid Warren, I can hear him mumbling._

_After I take the bus home, again sitting with Betty who's powers are so far unknown, I walk the short distance home, kiss my dad on the cheek, do my homework, read a bit, sleep._

_And repeat._

_This was **not **what I had planned for high school! I wanted drama, action, romantic tangles and hateful rivalries! I have two friends, three people I can't look at (literally), and a sort of maybe friend who has a language all to his own! Along with a silent bus buddy and a guy with an obsession for spit. Spit balls. Not like.. smoochy spit. Ew. Not even. Ahem._

_So, I have a list of things I will accomplish by the end of the year. It's in the earlier pages documenting the eighth grade, but I'll just rewrite it. Without the numbers. Oh, I'm bad._

_I will have a romantic interest. Possibly a senior. Every teen needs a crush that isn't over the age of twenty._

_I will have a best friend. Someone who I will be able to explain feelings to (all the mushy gushy useless crap like "girl talks". Pfft)_

_I will have something wrong with my life. Wait, what? I'm a fourteen year old with raging hormones. I've got tons of things wrong with my life._

_I will have a rival, preferably popular and snobby. Nobody likes a princess with no royalty in her blood._

_And, heh heh, **no** I didn't get the items of the list based on all of the soap operas I might have read/watched. Ha! Where'd you get that idea?_

_Yeah. I'm going now._


	9. Turn Your Light 0ff

"What's on the menu today?" Warren asked, rolling his eyes.

"No way Peace." I said, immediately sitting down across from him and shoving a tupperware of shu-cream at him.

"No what?" He grumbled, looking at me with smoky brown gorgeous eyes. Wait, did I say gorgeous? Ugh, leave the physical attraction for hot famous guys, Perkins! Schoolyard crushes are pointless unless they're seniors. Geez. "Are these profiteroles? How many did you make?"

"It's not profiteroles, it's called shu-cream. Get you Asian on, man. Cream puffs have names too. And I just made a few dozen." I rolled my eyes, getting back to the subject, "You and Wonder Wusses (a/n: don't blame the alliterations! It was the only thing I could think of that started with a W) over there," I pointed to the small group consisting of hippies, punks, wannabe-gangsters, boy-next-doors, and nerds. As in one of each of the most diverse groups you could think of all mashed together in one table, "saved the school from this awfully preppy honors student turned psycho who wanted to zap all the students and some old people here into babies."

"Yeah, so?"

"So...? Saving the masses deserves some mention, you know. You wanna know how I heard about it?"

"No."

"Good. Stories are more interesting when unwanted."

"Where the hell did you hear that?"

"Senile uncle-in-law." I leaned forward before whispering to him, "He used to torture people."

"Craziness runs in the family, then."

"Aw, you're just saying that." I waved my hand at him, "Anyway, I heard that the three kids that helped out Grayson are coming back to school."

"Those deadbeats?" He groaned.

"Yeah! Next week. They're going to be hated. A lot. And I heard that one of them used to be _popular_. Ha, she'll be like a helpless little puppy."

"You're enjoying their demise a little too much."

"It'd be like a Lifetime show. Follow the lives of three students who betrayed their whole entire school as they come back and face the very ones they turned against."

"Let me guess. You plan on becoming a writer?"

"No, that's too boring. I'd probably do that just on the sidelines. Maybe I'll be the new Crocodile Hunter. I like scales."

"Whatever, just promise you won't hang with them." He knew me too well. But, what he did not know, or could not compete with, was that I was the master of debacles... wait, that's not right.

"What's so bad about transfer students, Peacey?"

"Don't call me that. And they're not just any transfer students, they're Grayson's crew."

"Wow, minions of a born-again psychopath, sooo scary. Maybe they'll try another poorly thought out plan to finish us off, not taking into consideration the fact that people can escape through places _other_ than the front doors! I'm quivering in my sharpie covered converse!" I was very proud of my white converse. Well, they weren't white anymore, they were scribbled on with many colors. And they were _words_

"I'm serious, don't hang around them. They're bad people."

"Oh god, you sound like my foster dad. I hang out with you, don't I? You're considered the baddest person in the whole entire school. Don't worry, I can handle them."

He handed back the empty container of shu-cream, obviously forgetting to leave at least one for me. Heh, at least I have a chocolate cake with oreo crust at home.

And my converse were cooler than him.

**Author's Note:** Yes, I am slowly turning to stereotypes. In _style_.

Yes, this story has a plan. It has a lot of unknown plans inside that plan, but it will have an ending. And possibly a sequel.


	10. Fad3

Ah, my locker. Tis a beautiful thing. Well, not the plain boring silver metal, but the things inside. For inside, is a shrine of total and complete awesomeness. And it's not just a shrine for one thing, unlike all of those other normal looking shrines. Wait, is it not a shrine anymore? I think it's just a collage. For it has a music section filled with pictures of pretty bandmates, a family section with fat old father and actual parents on wedding day smiling and laughing, and a friend section with Gin Gin, a purple/black haired powerless psycho who goes to the local public school.

Yes, my locker is a beautiful thing.

"Move it, freshman." Something knocked into me and pushed me into my locker. I turned, glaring, to face about five versions of the same person. Ah, the juvie kids were coming today. This must be Penny. But that wasn't the point. Did she just tell me to move? While I was standing, to the side, looking inside my locker?

"How about you make me, control freak?" Ha, your glare cannot match mine. I won _contests _for that shit. Which is weird, because my parents were obsessively nice people. They couldn't glare, instead they just stared... with tortured compassion.

Ooh's immediately ran through the halls, even people who didn't know what the hell was going on ooh'd just for the sake of saying a word with multiple 'o's and not looking like a lunatic. It was like the wave. Everyone did it.

"What did you say?"

"Would you like me to translate for you? I know they don't provide education in juvie, but I didn't know it caused a hearing impediment for some."

"Oh, so you're a smart one, eh?"

"Up for a battle of the wits then, eh?" I found that I could imitate Canadian accents when trying. I said a-boat sometimes almost subconsciously. I don't know why, though. I only watch shows from the Land of Fish every other week.

"Take the stick out of your ass for a second, Penny. This freshmans got spunk!" This boy in stripes and layers with an emo/skater boy hair cut stretched... no, _really _stretched.. to where the two of us were standing off and wrapped an arm around both of us. And winked at me. Eh, he's got looks so I'll let it pass.

"And this freshman also doesn't appreciate physical contact when not hit on first." Did I just sound like I was a hooker?

He cleared his throat and got on his knees, stretching his arm really far away and coming back with a rose petal. Appreciating the gesture so far, is he going to propose? Because I'm not ready for that type of commitment yet.

"Shall I compare thee to a midsummer's day?" He declared dramatically, looking into my eyes.

"This senior's got nerve!" I cut off, trying not to laugh at his shocked face, "I appreciate the fact that you can read, unlike this girl over here," Cue gesture to rude senior convict, "But are you hitting on me with material that's been used years more than the amount of every word you've spoken in your life? I need originality, man."

He smirked and stood back up, towering over me. Was I always this short? Damn tall man.

"You're hot, wanna go to Homecoming with me?"

"Do you have a striped tie?" Please say yes, please say yes.

"Of course." Close enough. Words starting with 'y' are more rare, though, therefore they are cooler.

"Lemme wear one to the dance and you've got a date."

* * *

I have a date! I have a date! 

Whoo, I feel accomplished. Two things crossed off of my list in ten minutes. A bitchy rival and a romantic interest.

High school is becoming fun.

"Are you really going to the dance with Lash?"

How did they find me here? No one went to the library except for geeks!

Layla sat across from me, flocked by Magenta and for some strange reason Wonder-Glow.

"Dude, seriously?" Bright Boy asked.

"Yes, what's the big deal? I get a tie out of this. A striped tie."

"The school is going to see it as you betraying them and shun you for life." Magenta informed me.

"Wow, I didn't know a simple dance was going to turn into a Shakespeare drama. I forgot to bring my poison."

"Stop turning this into a joke, Perkins."

"Please, this _is _a joke! It's a date, with a _guy_. Somebody call the cops!" I shoved my paperback into my bag and stood up, raising my eyebrow at the trio, "Tell me if you three ever grow up."

They stood their in silence for a moment before Glow-Stick spoke up, "So... are we going to call the cops are not?"


	11. You Inhale Regrets

"You're going to the dance with Lash." Warren stated as soon as I sat down with my paper bag.

"Yeah. Fun fun, right?"

"Wrong. You're going to the dance with Lash."

"It's not like he's going to try and turn me into a baby. The mastermind is locked away and screaming about pimples."

"I warned you about him."

"Them. You warned me about _them, _as a whole. He is one of them, yet he is not only them. And he said I could wear one of his ties."

"So he could choke you?"

"Why are you so freakin' against me actually having a date for once? Not that you've known me for that long, but I haven't ever had a boyfriend! I am a deprived woman! The closest thing to a romantic link is when Billy gave me a chrysanthemum in the first grade. Which is when I realized I was allergic to them and sneezed on his face." I stabbed my Strawberry trifle viciously and swallowed some. Dessert for lunch. I thought Warren would like it. Surprisingly, he's a strawberry man.

"Traumatic experiences involving allergies put aside, Lash tried to turn the _whole school _into _babies_."

"Have you every thought of why he might've done something like that? If there were any second guesses? If he might actually regret what he did? Blackmail, perhaps?"

"Did he say that?"

"No, I have yet to have any heart-to-hearts with the boy. God! This is high school! I don't need to psycho-analyze everyone I plan on interacting with! For a boy who's purposefully separated himself from the school by having everyone fear you, you're acting like a damn hypocrite when it comes to others with bad reputations." Yeah, I went there!

I slammed the lid on my tupperware and shoved it into my bag, grumbling about how I always saw too much good in people. I say my stalking away was pretty affective, my chair screeched and eventually the cafeteria was silent when I walked through the doors. They were swishy doors, though. No slamming.

* * *

Wallowing in my anger is bad for my health. I did it once before, and it ended up with me punching in two walls and fracturing my pinky. Yet here I am, sitting on weird random concrete fences (or are they really fences at all?) and clenching my fists. I might be bleeding, but I don't care. When I'm angry all my instincts of self preservation go kaput. 

"I'm sorry." A masculine voice admitted grudgingly, sitting beside me as I waited for the bus.

"You're sorry?" Maybe I should take into consideration that Warren's afraid to show emotion and take it to heart when he apologizes.

"I'm not repeating myself." He snarled.

And... I snapped.

"Because you're too afraid to show someone that you actually have a heart?" Normally when I say things like this, people could tell I'm joking since I'm grinning goofily and my tone is happy. Now... I'm glaring slightly and my voice is cold. "I'm officially relieving you of your guide duties to this strange and terrifying new school I'm surrounded by. I think I'm used to the routine by now."

The freshman bus came, thank god for small miracles, and I walked away from what was sure to be awkward and angry.

Then I just realized that in his own small way, Warren just laid out his heart to me and I crushed it into a million little pieces and utterly rejected him.

I turned back around, damn the consequences of possibly missing the bus, and looked to where I was sitting before only to see an empty seat and fake green grass.

Oh god, what did I do?

* * *

Today is tomorrow when living in yesterday. 

In other words, this is the day after I completely ruined whatever friendship I might've had with Warren.

I don't even know how it happened, but I think my shirt's backwards. And it's lunch.

And I'm standing at the entrance, contemplating how the hell I'm going to make it up to Warren. I've already got the best gourmet meal I could prepare. Orange duck and ice cream sandwiches. No, the duck is not orange. It's the sauce. And the ice cream sandwiches aren't storebought, they're made with biscuits, homemade ice cream, and strawberry sauce. Now I just have to find an appropriate way to grovel.

It's safe to say I have made zero progress with my homework and there are bags under my eyes.

"Freshman!"

I turned to see whoever was calling the freshmen, for the freshman could be me, and in fact it was. For Lash stretched right in front of me in all his stripes and grinned.

"My names Emily Perkins, in case you haven't picked up on it yet." Why was his arm around me and where was he taking me?

"I'd rather call you Blue."

"As long as you don't turn my nickname into an alliteration. I draw the line at Blue Bear."

"Deal. Now lets eat."

"Um, actually, I have to," I raised the small cooler and stuffed paper bag pathetically. The ice cream would melt.

"Eat?"

"No, give the food to someone."

"Like us."

"No. To someone who isn't in the category of 'us'. More like an 'it'." Why couldn't I just say Warren? Warren Peace. Peace comma Warren. Why won't my throat obey me? OBEY ME!

"Are you okay?" I stopped choking myself and blushed.

"Um, yeah, just gimme a minute, okay?" I scanned the lunch tables and found Warren, sitting in his usual table, staring at a speck on the table. Or atleast I assumed there was a speck somewhere there, otherwise the table wouldn't be very interesting. And neither would the steam coming out of his back.

... Oh.

I headed straight towards him with my head down and my shoulders sagged. I walked fast, though, determined. It was just the upper half of my body that wouldn't obey me. It wouldn't even say anything, it just put the containers on his table, crushing the speck.

Aw, my throats opening up.

"Don't worry about giving anything back." I croaked before turning back and practically running back to Lash who was now accompanied by a fat guy with a baseball hat.

"Um, greetings." I said awkwardly to the big one.

"What was that all about?" Lash asked, frowning slightly. Don't tell me _all _guys are freaky protective.

"Nothing." My voice cracked and I cursed my female adam's apple.

"_This _is the girl you were telling me about?" Speed scoffed. "The only thing special about her is her rags." Rags? These are my _favorite _skinny jeans, and they are _not _rags. It's practically spandex! Spandex is in no way or form a _rag_.

"And what about you? The fat boy who can run? Shouldn't super speed work for your metabolism too?" I bit out, feeling my eyes spark. Yes, my eyes can spark, and I can feel it.

"Better. Let's get a table, chains." The tubby boy said, turning around.

The two of them started towards a table that immediately emptied from one glare and I stared for a second before following.

What kind of a name is _chains_?

Author's Note: I'm really really really sorry it took me more than a week to post something. It turns out I actually have a social life now (gasp!) and people won't let me live.


	12. With Each Gasping Breath

Greaat, it's Save the Citizen day again.

It's exactly two days since I shattered whatever friendship Warren and I had. Since he actually looked into my eyes.

Lash and Speed were whupping some random students' butts as villains, apparently used to the setup already. And Boomer was used to it, too, rolling his eyes and leaning back in his extremely tall chair.

"Aaand the villains win," He boomed, muttering something about how it was either Lash and Speed or Peace and Stronghold dominating. "Pick your next victims."

"We pick... Perkins." Speed said with a smirk.

Fatty say what?

Lash immediately punched him in the arm before searching the crowd for my dazzling blue hair. What the hell's going on?

"What are you waiting for, hothead!" Boomer.. boomed, "Get down to the changing rooms!"

"God must be out to get me." I grumbled, preparing my long descent towards doom.

"Good luck, Emily!" Layla smiled encouragingly.

"Yeah, try not to get trampled by your own boyfriend." Magenta rolled her eyes.

"Who else?" Boomer demanded.

"And Peace!" Speed yelled out.

Great, it's going to be awkward. Stupid Speed witnessing my awkwardness.

Was this because after he called me Chains I asked if I could call him Tubby?

"Um, hi." I said, suited up in plastic armor and neon colors.

He stared at me before glaring at our opponents, his arms immediately flaming. I jumped about three feet away from him automatically, mentally cursing him and his avoiding techniques. The jerk knew I couldn't talk to him with the fire.

A shot rang out, and the metal whirring spikes of death turned on.

The game was on.

Whoop dee fricking doo.

* * *

Speed was suffocating Warren. I don't know how, well I do know how, but I don't know _how _Speed could live with killing someone. He was running circles around him, really fast. It was like a vortex, sucking all the air out of the circle. You could see Warren gasping for air. 

Okay, Emily. What do you do. You don't have super strength, Lash is waiting for you to make your move, and Warren is dying.

Agh, if only I could glue Speed's feet to the ground or something!

Whoa, he stopped. And his shoes are goopy. And stuck to the floor.

Oh, save Warren, right.

"Peace!" Names other than the family names are not acceptable when not on speaking terms. Yet I run to him and hug him anyway, "Are you okay?"

"Fine. We only have a minute." He breathed out, "Save the fucking citizen."

"Give me a spark, then."

"And your fear of fire? The only time you get near it is when you're high from smoking shit." He grumbled, shakily standing up and brushing me off.

"I do not smoke _any _shit. It's called adrenalin. So light up, stiff."

He rolled his eyes and his hand lit up in flames.

I grabbed it with my hands and threw it to the floor, mentally urging it to spread across the floor. I ran towards the "citizen", knowing Lash couldn't walk through fire in his little safe corner, and climbed up to the edge. I sense that I have previously used the same technique before, only to the extreme. Oh yeah, my first Save the Citizen game.

I could hear Lash and Speed yelling at each other from a distance, for apparently none of them had any clue what powers I had until now. And they paired me with a flame thrower. Smaaaart.

Okay, deathly spinny things and lack of balance. I'm going to die a very painful, shredded death. Might as well just grab the citizen and die with pride.

* * *

Wow, death is _really _uneventful. It's loud, though. But really dark. 

And it feels like a pair of hands are groping me.

Am I in hell?

Oh, my eyes are just closed.

Hello stripes! Oh, yeah. Speaking helps.

"Hello stripes! What happened?"

Aw, he's carrying me bridal style! He must have grabbed me at the last minute from dropping into a vat of shiny painful things. How sweet!

"Were you dropped on your head as a kid or were you just born a complete and utter idiot?" Okay, that's not stripes, that's Warren.

"Um, I'm still contemplating which scenario fits my life best."

"Back off, Peace." Stripes growled.

"Shove it, Livingston."

Okay, too much testosterone.

Hey, I'm carrying the dummy. It's like Lash is carrying a baby... carrying a baby. Baby sandwich!

"Mind explaining to me why I'm clutching a stupid doll?"

"You had a panic attack." Warren growled, "Because you don't think."

"I told you to back off. Maybe if you actually did something to help her she wouldn't've had a panic attack and I wouldn't've had to stop her from falling into the pit of razors."

"I was too busy dealing with the aftermath of having the air sucked out of me. And yeah, I can't fly."

"Maybe if you could-"

"How about you two stop yelling?"

"It's your life, freshman." And Warren has left the building. Probably to change out of the ridiculous motocross costume.

"_Save me, save me!"_

"I already did, you stupid doll!" I grabbed a flame that people with fire extinguishers have yet to put out and burnt the stupid thing to bits. Why am I afraid of fire again? Oh yeah.

"How's Speed doing?" I asked, once I calmed down a bit.

"His shoes are completely stuck to the ground. It's weird, nothing like that ever happened before, his sneakers are just fused with the floor."

"Is he walking around barefoot?" Lash nodded, deep in thought.

Hopefully his thoughts didn't melt shoes to the floor, either.

Author's Note: Gasp, does she have a new power? All will be revealed. Eventually.


	13. Your Once Treasured Wealth

I was in front of Warren's apartment. House. Crappy thing.

Mean, yes?

I was in front of Warren Peace's dwelling place. It was shabby, it was covered in grafitti, it might be falling apart.

I was in front of Warren Peace's home.

It took me awhile to find this place. I called Layla first, but she said that she didn't know his phone number and she only visited him at the restaurant he worked at. Then she told me to try one of the other people she hung out with and proceeded to give me all their phone numbers. For some reason, maybe her scary mother nature voice, I added all of the Dream Team into my phone book.

Then I called Magenta, cause she's cool. She was weirded out by how I knew her phone number, but then I asked her if she knew where Warren lived and she had this weird knowing tone of voice. It was annoying. Then she casually asked what was going on between us. As in me and Warren.

I growled.

Then she told me that she had been to Warren's house before, but she didn't know the address and couldn't remember the directions. Or his phone number. Or anyone's contact information, in fact. She just walked places and got there.

Then, god forbid, I called Patriotic Boy, talked to Will's dad about how I needed to ask him something important, he chuckled, _called me Layla_, and gave Will the phone.

"_I am **not** Layla."_

"_Okay, then who are you?"_

"_Emily Perkins."_

"_Oh." What was that 'oh'? That was the oh of mild resentment and major awkward feelings._

"_Yes?"_

"_Shouldn't I be the one saying that, since you're the one who called me?"_

"_Tell me where Sparky lives and I won't hate you for the rest of my life."_

"_Why would you hate me?" That means 'why should I care?'_

"_Because I need to talk to him and I know voodoo magic! You do not want do be on the receiving end of my wrath!" What can I say? If kids can fly, voodoo can work._

_He then followed my every command._

I knocked on the door.

Oh crap! What did I do that for!? Run! Wait, no, you came here to talk to him.

An aged Asian woman with pretty brown eyes opened the door, looking at me with a tired happy expression. The obvious result of hidden depression. Hey, I can rhyme!

"Yes?"

"Um, does Warren live here?" I asked hopefully as she took up a guarded expression.

"And who are you?"

"I'm Emily Perkins, from his school. I was wondering if I could talk to him..?" Her eyes immediately lit up.

I knew what that look meant.

A girl, asking about my son! I'll have grandkids before I die! Yes!

Warren apparently wasn't the social butterfly made himself out to be.

"Yes, yes, he's in his room, doing his homework or something like that. Sure you can talk to him! First door to the right." She shooed me in the house and down a hallway past a neat and homey living room.

I knocked. He said come in, so don't blame me if I squeaked when I opened the door after not announcing that I wasn't his mother.

Whoa. Six pack. Shirtless six pack. He's a junior and he has a six pack?

Half naked boy on bed is not "homework or something"!

He raised an eyebrow, his face more of an emotionless stone then before.

"Um... hi." I said with a blush. Darn blushing.

"What are you doing here?" Words that could be inquisitive and rude at the same time. And yet, and this really hurt deep, he was impassive.

So I took a deep breath, holding back the tears that came out of nowhere (am I PMSing?), and closed the door. His mother didn't seem like the type to listen in on conversations, but it didn't hurt to be careful. He made no move to beckon me further into the room and make his unwanted guest comfortable, but like I said, I was unwanted. He didn't want me forced in on his territory any more than I already was.

"I... wanted to counter-apologize your apology."

".. What?" Yeah, that sounded stupid, I know.

"I.. I think I have this disease, other than my pyrophobia, where when people try and force me to do the things they want me to do, in your case wanting me to not go to the dance with Lash, I get overly defensive and the anger stays with me awhile no matter what." Oh great, bad memories. Suck it in, Perkins, you're already about to explode in salty water.

"Sit down." He said in a gentle way for him and motioned beside him on the red and black bed he was on. Did I mention he was shirtless? Wearing just black jeans. His hair was wet, the signs of a shower.

I smiled gratefully and sat down next to him. And immediately felt awkward.

"I think you're a philosophobia." I blurted out, hating silences when things were awkward.

"I'm a person afraid of philosophy?" Smirk. Good sign.

"Oh, sorry, I meant to say philophobia."

"Did you make that up?"

"No, I got it off the phobia list online, genius. A fear of falling in love or being in love. Explains your growling tendencies, right?" Smile, make sure your voice has a teasing edge to it. Are my eyes shining? Of course they are, I'm about to cry. Maybe he'll think that I'm really _really _happy and that my eyes are... twinkling. "I found it when I was looking up the term of my condition." Oh great, fire, bad memories. Suck it in, suck it in.

"Condition? You make it sound like you're crazy."

"Not crazy, just a person afraid of fire." Suck it in, suck it in. Oh god, a tear is going to fall out. What am I going to do?

I turned around and... sucked it in.

I stayed silent for awhile with him staring at me in shock and all those other things, wiping away my tears, until I finally had to breathe. You can't cry if you can't breathe. But, you can't live if you can't breathe either. So I breathed in, which sounded like some gasping croak with a feminine touch to it, a sound everyone makes, even men, when they cry.

"Um.. there there?" Stupid Peace. He sucked at comforting.

A Brief Look Into Warren's Mind

Shit, is that girl hugging me? Shit, shit, shit. Should I burn her? It's a tradition to burn the people who touch me. Except for those related to me. Wait, never mind, except for those I _like_ who are related to me. No, she's crying and she's a friend. Oh shit, she's my _friend_. Shit, shit, shit. When the hell did that happen? Shit. And she's crying. What do I do? And what the hell is she crying about?

Back to Emily

When did I turn around and hug him? He feels nice. Oh crap, shirtless.

Blushing now.

Yet crying. Oh, the waterworks are still coming. This has been coming for awhile. But why did it have to be in front of the hot Junior? Wait, not hot. He is friend. Barely a friend. That I'm crying on.

Is my nose plugged? More importantly, is my snot on his shoulder? I breathed through my nose. Good, my nose is clear of phlegm and will not drip on him. But his shoulders are all wet from my tears now. And his arms are just limp on either side of him. Wait, his arms are moving. Just because my hands are clinging to your neck, not in the choking way of course, doesn't mean that you get to touch me, buster!

Did I just call him buster in my mind?

Oh. My. God. His arms are freaking _loaded_ with muscle.

I sound like a ditzy teenager.

But his muscled arms are around me and stroking my back! Hey, I'm not crying anymore.

Did I just purr?

"Did you just _purr_?"

"Don't steal my thoughts." I said dazedly, hugging him tighter, "I'm sleepy now."


	14. Means Nothing in Death

++++Means Nothing in Death++++

I fell asleep in Warren Peace's room.

You wonder how I know? I woke up to red, black, and white. Even his desk is black. He actually has a desk. With papers on it.

I only saw this from a distance, though. I was in a big comfy bed, in black and red sheets. That's how I knew I wasn't in my own room. Nothing in my room is red. The only red thing I associate myself with is blood and cherries. Mmm... Maraschino goodness.

But I'm tucked into a big comfy red sheet and confused. Oh, wait, I cried. I always sleep after I cry. Well, probably not when I was a baby, but since I was six. And three quarters.

Where's Warren?

Just as if it was a ditzy television show, Warren walked in donning the same ensemble as before, only with a wifebeater. The clothing, not an abusive husband. His hair was tied back, a big surprise, and I noticed a flame tattooed on each of his wrists and thought '_cool_'. Oh great, I was attracted to him and his bad ass.

Not that I've been looking at his ass, of course.

"Um... hi." Sound familiar, anyone? That's my favorite line for awkward conversations.

"Do you always sleep after you pour your bodyweight in tears on unsuspecting teens?"

"Oh, you knew it was coming." I glared at him quickly, "And I don't weight that much!"

"Right." He smirked.

Eh? Curse you! Stupid fricking macho man isn't scared of the intimidating female! I'm _glaring_.

"Emily, you're not scary." Was this the first time he's ever called me by my actual name? Kudos to me!

Wait.

Oh, _crap._

"Hey, what time is it?" I asked hurriedly, looking around and missing the round clock three times until Warren answered.

"It's eight. You completely slept through my shift." Oh, he works. Cool.

"I've been asleep in your bed for four and a half hours?"

"Three and a half." He corrected. He must be getting a kick outta this, "Did you have a nice nap?"

Mocking? It was too much.

"My male parental figure must be so _worried_." I gushed, hopping out of his unmade bed and brushing down my waving hair, straightening out my clothes. My tanktop always gets messed up when I sleep, I hope I wasn't flashing him. That would be embarrassing. Even more than I already am, "I mean, I just said I was going to visit a friends house real quick, he must either think that I've been kidnapped or you and me went to funky town." He chuckled and I froze.

Warren Peace chuckled.

"Warren.. Did you just laugh?" I think he's scared of my smile.

"No." He said automatically.

"Really?" I inched closer to him, preparing to hug him. I mean, he broke the physical boundary first, unless I did on the first day of school when I punched him.

"Really. Must have been a hallucination on your part."

"Warren, you laughed. You _giggled_. You're a blooming graceful flower child who laughs and frolicks among the grass naked," Ugh, now I'm seeing him shirtless again... with extremely toned legs.. and other things. Ew, "with the rest of us, singing careless melodies and _laughing_."

"You're still crazy."

"Did you expect any different?"

"Hug me and I'll flame you."

"That might work on others who aren't invincible when it comes to fire, hon, but I'm hugging you."

He groaned.

* * *

"Mark, I'm am _so_ sorry it took so long."

The balding man turned his wheelchair to face me and raised a wise eyebrow.

"This house you went to," I nodded, motioning for him to go on, "Was it a boy or a girl?"

Now, should I lie so he'd just think it was girl talk, or tell the truth and have him accuse me of being deflowered with the horizontal mambo? That would be embarrassing, defending my virginity like that.

"His name is Warren Peace, and no sexual intimacy was conducted during the duration of my stay." I rolled my eyes for good measure.

"Peace, huh?" He frowned and I rolled my eyes again.

"Oh please, you're thinking of his father, aren't you?"

"Honey, I just want what's best for you. I'm not sure if hanging out with the son of a convict is in your best interests."

"Mark." I put my hands on my hips and prepared for a good healthy rant, "Yes, Warren Peace is the son of Baron Battle, but Warren Peace wasn't the one who committed those crimes. It was Baron Battle who burned down part of the city, not Warren Peace. Warren Peace is not Baron Battle, and never will be. He's just a boy with gloves that I want to steal, okay? Don't tell me that's not in my best interests. I need those gloves." And his six pack. Argh, bad thoughts. Must.. not... be.. perverted. Already.. have.. date... to homecoming.

"Fine, but I don't want him to be causing any trouble. No crying yourself to sleep again."

I turned my head away and he realized his mistake.

"Honey,"

"It's okay, Mark." I smiled an unbelievably fake smile and tugged on my sleeves, "I'm just gonna start on my homework. Be down in a few."

Author's Note: When is the author _finally _going to explain the depression? Did she already explain it? She'll have to recheck the storyline...


	15. When You Live Life

++++When You Live Life++++

Iiit's Friday! And Warren no longer hates me. I'm proud of myself.

But should I sit with him? I mean, he's hanging out with me hanging out with Magenta and Layla again, which means Patriotic Boy is allowed near his girlfriend when I'm around during gym, but things are still awkward. Mainly because we had physical contact (I hugged him).

Now it's like those awkward first dates I've heard about. Should I talk to him? Should I act as if nothing happened or get close to him? Hug? No hug?

Ugh.

And worse yet, homecoming was tonight. Time just seemed to flash by at an unbelievably fast pace. Of course I had a dress. Even though I may sometimes be considered insane I _do _know how to be prepared. It's pretty, vaguely resembles something a dominating prostitute would wear, and has chains.

Where, oh where, shall I sit? Date for homecoming or first friend? Bro's over ho's? Wait, they're both men. Although I think my date is a bit of a man ho...

"Hey, Blue!" Lash yelled, wrapping an arm around me from across the cafeteria.

Looks like my choice has been made for me... But Warren needs to eat... But Lash's hands are kind of comfy...

"Have some patience, Stretch!" I yelled back, unpeeling his fingers from my hip and watching them shrink back to his body.

"Good afternoon, my dear Mr. Peace."

"Aren't you going to your boyfriend?" Warren raised an eyebrow, reading his book.

"In a sec." Although he has not been established as my boyfriend, thank you very much, "I have to feed you so you'll grow up big and strong!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want an anorexic boy on my hands, Mr. Peace, no matter how manly you are."

He sighed and put away his book, knowing I probably wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

I smiled, feeling accomplished, and handed him the paper bag of food.

"So..." I started, watching him eat his pasta.

He raised an eyebrow. Again.

"This is kind of awkward. You know? You know. I mean, yeah." I babbled, trailing off and blushing madly.

"You're welcome to leave." He's laughing at me, isn't he? Silently, with his silent powers of... silence.

"But you're my friend, and I have to make sure you eat."

I felt something tickle my waist and jumped, looking at a large extension of Lash's hands.

"I'm coming, already!" I yelled over the cafeteria noise, everyone quieting to stare at me, "What are y'all lookin' at?" I yelled once again before smiling at Warren as I stood up, "I'll see you at the dance, then."

* * *

"I won't even bother trying to teach all of you. Go talk about your hair or whatever seems to be of importance," Mr. Erick smirked as he sat on his desk. Not on the chair to his desk, but on his desk. He had a sketch pad in his hands and a bit of charcoal, looking as attractive as ever. He should be an actor. He would make millions with his pretty face. 

"'Ey, babe, heard you're dragging that hot bad boy senior to the dance tonight." Janice said, the many bling around her neck glistening... in my eye.

"Hells yeah," I said, getting in on the stereotype she was mimicking today, "You got a man whore for yourself, girl?"

"Nope. Flying solo and weighing my options."

An arm draped over my shoulder which I immediately brushed off.

"You're going with a senior?" Quinn asked, sitting himself down onto the desk next to the two of us, "Which one?"

"The flexible one, man." Janice laughed. Or, for today, J-Dog, "Let me guess, you ordered some hottie to come wit' you?"

I snickered, "For reals, boy?"

"Actually, that cute Betty girl asked me. A little hippie but still has a pretty face. And yes, she asked me."

"Wow. And I thought she was cool." My softspoken bus buddy asked to spend time with the controlling jerk?

"... I don't know who she is." Janice added, for lack of anything to say.

"Not many people do." Quinn smirked, happy with the idea of not going with anyone popular.

Weird, weird, boy.

* * *

The dance is going to start in two point five hours and counting. 

What was going to happen when I died?

Would people remember me? Worse yet, would they not care? Would they be happy that I was gone?

My friends.. would they care? They weren't my friends, not really, I just spoke to them. I never had any heart to hearts, the only one who knew about me was Warren who acted like he hated me.

I want to have some meaning in my life. My lack of purpose is driving me insane.

But no need for deep pointless thinking when I'm preparing for my first High School dance.

Eep! Homecoming!

I squealed as I finished putting on my makeup.

Wait.

I'm all finished.

And I still had two hours left.

Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn, why can't I be a normal girl and take hours and hours and hours to get ready?

Author's Note: I share Emily's pain...

I'm sorry it took me weeks and weeks to give all of you an update. I've been having "family problems", which has temporarily killed my writing. But no longer!


	16. Lusting for Highs

You know how I was so excited to dance at my first homecoming ever and be all squeal and preppy in the bright lights and be a girl?

Yeah, now I want to get a time maching, rewind to this morning, and slap myself. Then I wouldn't feel so hot. Hmph.

This was absolutely horrible.

It started off only semi-bad. We had to take the busses there. I knew that, but I thought that I could ride with my date. That fact is the only thing I'm happy about right now... The fact that yes, I'm on a date with a senior.

But then, of course, I couldn't. Because I'm a freshman, therefore I ride the bus with the rest of my "people". As in next to no one because the quiet girl I usually sit next to is giggling next to Quinn.

So I got to the actual school and looked around.

I saw no one that I knew. Or would consider talking to. And I supposedly have a date.

That isn't here.

He took all that nonexistant trouble to ask me out and he's not even here... Asshole.

I need to wander around and find people, dammit.

... Five torturous minutes later...

"Who's the unlucky boy?" Magenta scoffed as I sat down next to her brooding self, the rest of the cheery sophomore club surrounding her.

"Lash, when I find him." I huffed and crossed my arms. Stand me up when I get dressed up, why don't'cha.

"Why do you need to find me? I'm right here." Lash stretched in front of me with a flower, probably taken from the various plants littering the school, and bowed. Stretchily. "You look very hot tonight."

"Thank you. I'd say the same to you, but you look exactly as you do normally. You better have my damn tie, though."

So I forgave the cute boy and thought that the date would finally begin. With me sporting a striped tie.

Wrong.

Speedy boy spiked the punch bowl when Mr. Boy wasn't looking while Lash was laughing about it near the cheese cubes and I was stuck looking like a wallflower. Nice. I would kill him if I wouldn't go to jail. He's ruining my plans for high school!

"You look lonely. And pissed."

"I'm not lonely!" I looked around to see no one but Warren near me and noticed that... Hey... I am lonely. And pissed. "So what if I am?"

"Great boyfriend you picked out." He scoffed, leaning next to me on my wall and nodding towards my date tripping anyone who passed by him.

"He's not my boyfriend." I crossed my arms and huffed, "Who did you snag, anyway?"

"No one."

"Ah, you thought you'd pick out a hottie at the dance, right? Magenta told me about the icy girl you bagged last year."

Whoa, his face can get scary.

"Whatever." He growled, trying to walk away.

But, alas, I was too beautiful for him to leave.

Yeah, I went with the grabbing of the arm approach.

"Hey, no need to be touchy." Apparently that wasn't good enough of an apology, "Wanna dance?"

"I don't dance."

"Me neither." I grinned. "But this is a dance."

"Your point?"

"I'm not sitting against the wall willing voodoo magic on Stripes, okay?" Wow, I'm getting a little angry, aren't I? "I'm dancing and you're coming too!"

"Define dancing."

"Moving to the rhythm, genius."

I dragged him to the dance floor and immediately moved to the music, paying no attention to the flame boy until he was eerily close to me. Yeah, I never danced _with _a guy before, sue me.

And then, just my luck, a slow song started playing.

"I'll be going now." He grumbled.

His voice was strange like that. He was always like, "Grr, I'm hardcore." but I bet his voice can be really soft. He just has one of those voices.

"I'll follow you so I won't be left standing in the middle of the gym like an idiot." That's worse than standing next to the wall.

"You thought you could just steal my girl, Peace?"

I wanted a stereotypical high school life, but dang. This is just overkill.

"What the hell are you talking about, Stretch?" Warren growled, wanting to move past the tall stretchy thing.

"Um, can we not have a fight?" I asked, moving in between the two, "I don't want detention and blood to cloud my memory of homecoming."

"Get out of the way, Emily." Warren said, his arm smoking a little.

Oh crap. He used my name!

"Yeah. Wouldn't want flameboy to burn you." Lash sneered. Did he know nothing?

"Dude! Pyrokinetic! Fires do not hurt me!" I thought seniors had atleast a shred of intelligence.

"Um, hello boys," Mr. Boy showed up from nowhere, looking extremely awkward. "You know, physical confrontation is against school policy."

"Don't worry, Mr. Boy," Hold in laughter at ridiculous name, "Sparky and I were just leaving."

Send a withering glare towards Stretch, smile at Mr. Boy, and head towards the big swinging doors with Warren steaming right next to me.

That's a pretty damn good exit, if I do say so myself.

* * *

"You know what? I think I've been here before." Wanna know how I could tell, excluding my mad remembering skills? Big shoe prints. Big combat boot prints. Gotta love me them combat boots. 

"You passed out in Save the Citizen."

"When do I not pass out in Save the Citizen?" He huffed a little and I smiled. That's the closest to a laugh I'm getting.

"Why are you going to a superhero school when you like playing the part of the damsel in distress so much?"

"Hey, I'm way cooler than any of those cheap blond girls from those cheap movies with their stupid cheapness."

"You forgot to add in another cheap."

"Just for good measure." I smirked.

"But seriously, if you hate your powers so much then why the hell are you going here?"

Smirk is gone now.

"My parents were both supers. Famous supers. The Wonder Couple. Like Patriotic Boy's family, only with that New York edge."

"Who were they?" He asked, even though I doubted he paid attention to Super History. I only listened to the pirate stories Mr. Sparrow told. Curses and treasure were way more interesting than the dorky current events that made up today.

"They were part of one of the first group of heroes before going solo." Then of course there was that whole explosion of 'heroes' in spandex and capes, prancing around with their 'powers', "Something with an X. I don't remember much about them, but I remember my dad used to make the best ice sculptures in the world. He once made a lifesize ballerina for me." Crap, I'm rambling.

"A pyrokinetic born from a man who could make ice?"

"Eh, stranger things have happened."

"Like you thinking Lash was a good person."

"I can't help that I have sucky taste in men."

"That's a given."

"I mean, first I agree to go with Lash, which is something altogether, and then I choose to spend most of my time with the most obvious antisocial angry man in the city, let alone this school."

"Do not compare me to Stretch."

"Yeah, you're way hotter." Did I just say that?

"That wasn't exactly what I was aiming for."

"Yeah, you're sweeter too."

"Sweet?"

"Well, if you went to the trouble to get a girl to go with you to a dance, quoting Shakespeare and everything, would you just ignore her while your buddies spiked the Ginger Ale?"

"No." He admitted grudgingly.

"You even almost got into a fight for me. I'm a little jealous of whatever girl's gonna end up with you." While I grow old with my crippled step father, raising an army of cats to battle all the mice in the world. God, I'm pathetic.

He scoffed, "Yeah, that'll happen right after my dad finally manages to break out of jail."

"You know I'm not gonna do that whole best friend 'Aw, girls are linin' up tah get with you!' thing, because you're an idiot if you don't know that the whole bad boy look is doing wonders with the girls, but the whole bad boy thing is also scaring them off at the same time. You gotta be bad but not menacing, y'know? I mean, half the whole school wants a piece of your ass! Not in the like, 'Grr, I'm gonna beat you up' way, but the 'damn, I'd hit that!' way. Y'know?"

"You're rambling."

"Well, they do."

I sound like an idiot. I should just shut up right now.

He had a small smile on his face, though. I guess me being an idiot makes him... happy?

* * *

"Emily, you're... humming?" 

Daddykins wheeled into the living room where I was dancing while untying my boots.

I replied with a smile and humming a happier tune.

"Oh god, who defiled my baby girl?"

"Dad!" I shrieked in horror before laughing, "I'm still a virgin!"

"Thank you, Jesus." He allowed himself to smile, "Then why are you so happy?"

"No reason." Why the hell am I happy, anyway? All I did was talk to Mr. Shady. I talk to him all the time.

"You have the smile of someone in love."

"Pfft, for an old man you ain't so wise. I'm not in love with anyone, thank you."

"Ah, it's that Peace boy isn't it? I admit, at first I was a bit weary, but if he makes you happy-"

"Dad, I'm not fallin' for anyone, okay? In fact, I dropped the guy I went with, anyway." Oh, that's a little sad. I don't have a boyfriend... I have only one guy friend... "Now that I think of it, I'm not happy anymore. I'm gonna go to my room and brood, okay?"

"Atleast you have your innocence."

I rolled my eyes.

Fathers. Sheesh.

Author's Note: So, no one probably reads this anymore since it took me so long to update... But for the Lash fans... Too bad... Heh.  



	17. You're Sooner Found

The phone is ringing. This is actually a strange occurrence in my house, someone calling. The only people who talk to my dad are old drunken men who reminisce on the "good old days" who know nothing of phones and technology. And the people I talk to... I only talk to during school hours.

I hope he knows I'm not getting that.

But even as the ringing stopped and I could vaguely hear my dad's raspy tones from downstairs, I was curious.

So I tiptoed.

"Who was it, pops?" I asked the balding man with an overwhelming stomach that threatened to pop out of his shirt and scream surprise.

He put the phone on his shoulder in some strange attempt to stop the person on the other side from hearing and slowly turned to face me, his adopted daughter.

"It's... They say they're your parents."

"Oh."

I managed to keep my cool for a few seconds before fainting.

"It's all a big joke, though. Probably. Not very nice of them to-" He turned around to see his daughter on the ground unconscious. "Emily?"

He ended whatever conversation he was having and started dialing rapidly on his phone, "Janie? It's me, Mark. Come over quickly. Emily fell."

He held his hand to his chest, carefully not to move the wheelchair and risk running over his blue-haired daughter, hoping his neighbor would come quick enough. And that Emily would be okay.

* * *

"Ugh, what happened?" I mumbled, holding my head that hurt pretty damn bad. 

"You fell on a wooden floor. That's what happened. How many fingers am I holding up?" A woman, I think she's my neighbor, held up three fingers. So I told her that. "Well, if you start puking then that's a pretty bad sign, but I think you're okay. Bye, now."

And she disappeared. Coming in magically, disappearing like the wind. She's... Neighbor Woman!

"That was strange." I blinked. "I'm gonna go to my room and do all that teenage girl stuff, okay?"

"Okay." Pops said, watching sadly as his adopted daughter walked up the stairs, completely oblivious to what had happened.

That was strange. I just fell for no reason at all? I gotta work on that whole balance thing.

I spared a glance towards my ankle socks. I should wear slippers. They have those rubber things, right? Harder to slip. But then I can't slide across the floor. That's no fun.

Wait. I don't have any slippers.

Oh well, you win some, you lose some.

* * *

"_Emily?"_

"_Yes, Boo Boo Kitty-"_

"_Don't call me that."_

"_Okay, why did you say my name?" Twice in one day! I'm on a role._

_He stared up at the night sky, tuning out the cheesy dance music coming from the gym._

"_Can I ask you something?"_

"_Sure."_

"_And you promise to answer it? Truthfully?"_

"_Um, yeah?"_

"_Why are you afraid of fire?" He asked, staring into my eyes._

_Oh great, why did I agree to that whole answering questions truthfully? I gave my word._

_Stupid words._

"_Well, um,"_

"_No avoiding the question."_

"_I know that, dinghole." I glared as he snorted at the semi-insult, "When I was a little kid, my parents died in a fire. Happy?"_

"_So the old guy you call dad..."_

"_I was adopted by him and an old dying woman when I was six. Happy?"_

_He sat silently as I sniffed, damning my emotional weaknesses. My eyes could never obey me. When I wanted them to be blue, they were a firey amber. When I wanted to cry, my eyes didn't 'feel like it'. When I told them to suck it up, they cried like babies. Damn them._

_As I sniffed, I could tell what was going through his head. My parents died in a fire, my power is to control power, what the hell happened?_

"_You're not afraid of fire." What the hell?_

"_I'm a pyrophobe, that kind of comes with the package."_

"_It's not fear. It's guilt that if you knew about your powers they would still be with you. But you were just a scared kid who didn't know what was happening."_

"_Don't act like you know everything." I huffed, "How do you know I didn't know about my powers?"_

"_Powers don't manifest until puberty."_

"_Most of the time." I plucked some grass, ripping it apart in my fingers, "I always liked playing with the bright lights. Fire couldn't hurt me. I thought fire couldn't burn anyway. They were my only friends, y'know? They were the companions I never had. The other kids always thought I was touched in the head, the few times I spoke. Sometimes I thought the flames were whispering to me, comforting me when no one else knew I was sad, telling me to do things."_

_I laughed. Cold. Hollow. That wasn't my laugh._

"_Of course I knew better than to actually do what they said. When I did, I would get in trouble with my parents. My mom would get real quiet and sad, and my dad would get angry, mutter something about that damn pyro. Then, one day, I thought that if I tipped over the candle, just this once, the bright light would spread and it would be everywhere, surrounding me. Making me feel safe._

"_I didn't know the fire would burn them. They were so terrified. They died trying to save me and I was never even in trouble. That's what you get when your father can't make enough ice to stop a fire as big as the entire house while I was dancing, oblivious to everything until I heard them scream. Dancing! I was the devil's spawn, playing in the death and pain of others." Tears were rolling down my cheeks unwillingly and I couldn't continue my pity fest._

"_You didn't know what you were doing, don't blame yourself for their deaths."_

"_I should've listened to Smokey the Bear."_

_He wrapped a strong arm around me and pulled me close._

"_It's not your fault."_

"_It sure feels like it."_

"_But it's not. You were just a kid that was immune to fire." He brushed back my hair, rubbing circles on my back again, "You didn't know that everyone else could burn."_

"_You're too understanding."_

"_I'm a flame thrower, I know what it feels like to hurt the people you love." I looked up at him, curiously._

"_Didn't you wonder why my mother dressed like a nun?"_

"_No..." I said in disbelief._

"_What's so hard to believe? I am my father's son after all."_

"_Warren," I crawled up on my knees and held his face in my hands, my fingers brushing against his smooth skin, "You are nothing like your father. _

I woke up in a cold sweat. Blue hair stuck to my face, a little going in my mouth. Hair tastes nasty, despite what Janice said about the scent of my hair.

I spill my guts to Warren way too much.

* * *

Sunday, bloody sunday. Yes, I quoted a song. It's a very good song. That's the only part I know from it though. Sunday, bloody sunday. The most boring day of the week. Yet, the best one. The day that my pops goes to his Bingo game and tries to hit on fellow woman who have no teeth. And I get to dance in the living room in peace. Hey, that kinda rhymed. 

And that damn phone is ringing. Who the hell knows our number?

Damn, they're putting a stop to my groove, man!

"Hello?" I asked, picking up the phone. I always had to use that sugary sweet tone until I knew who was calling.

"_Sweetie?_"

"Sorry, Hottie Hotline is a 6 at the end instead of a 9. Trust me, people make this mistake a lot."

"_Emily_?"

"If this is some guy asking me out, it's not wise to start off by calling me sweetie. It's creepy."

"_I think I'd puke if I asked you out."_

"Hey, there's no reason to crush my ego that much!" Who was this guy? He's mean. I bet he's related to Lash.

"_I meant I'd be a sick pedophile."_

"_John, what the hell are you talking about!? Give me the phone."_

"_But-"_

"_I said give it!"_

"Wow, someone's whipped."

"_And doesn't he know it. Hi, I'm Wanda Allerdyce."_

"Hi, I'm Emily."

"_I know, I'm your mother."_

I dropped the phone. Did the antennae break? I hope it didn't.

I scrambled to pick up the phone and stared into space a bit before talking.

"It's not nice to lie about parentage... stuff." Didn't they know I lost my parents in a fire? How cruel were they!? Fuckers.

"_We really are your parents, though! And if you hang up I swear I will track your actual house down instead of just your phone number! I have yellow books!"_

"Give me proof that you're my parents then." I scoffed.

"_You have a birthmark on your butt that looks like a heart._" That's not proof. I've mooned a couple people in my life. They think the heart is cute.

"Have you been looking at my baby photos!? Stalker!"

"_Please, sugar. I'm your mom, I know these things."_

"_You've been talking to Rogue again haven't you!"_

"_Don't make me hurt you, John!"_

"_You wouldn't hurt me, you love me!... Ow!"_

"_Listen, Emily, if you don't believe us, I have your birth certificate."_

"When's my birthday then?_"_

"_April twenty fourth. Around midnight. And it was painful, dammit!"_

"So you looked me up. Impressive."

"_Your eyes were purple when you were born."_

"A common thing among little babies. Tell me something no one knows."

"_You have three moles on your right toe in a straight line."_

"Ha! How do you know that? I never let people see my bare feet! And it's not a straight line! It's more... squiggly.." I dropped the phone again, and this time my consciousness with it. Again.

Author's Note: Gasp! The drama! I mean, who knew that Emily mooned people?

So, thank you everyone for reviewing and making me feel so loved. Especially the ones who cried!

What is the deal with Emily and her parents? Didn't they die in a fire (in case you couldn't tell, Emily's dream was a flashback to the dance)? Kudos to the people who can guess who the four parents are.


	18. Deep Underground

Today was awful. Bloody awful. 

Mr. Sparrow's stories no longer had me at the edge of my seat anymore. All I could think of was them. Wanda and John Allerdyce.

Why did they wait so long to find me? Did they know about my powers? Did they have my powers?

... Did they know about what I did to my parents?

A sharp ringing brought me out of my trance and a blush stained my cheeks as everyone left to go to their next period. Screw gym. I want answers.

I picked up my bag and walked over to the teacher, his slightly curled hair shining a little in the flourescent lights.

"Um, Mr. Sparrow?" I didn't see any students rushing in. It's probably his free period.

"Do you know anything about Wanda and John Allerdyce?"

"Ah, an interesting story. The Scarlet Witch and Pyro."

I nodded. Sounds promising.

"The bloody eunuch and his insane bride." I snorted. He had a way with words, "None of them could make up their minds, no matter how famous they were. First the man was an insane Australian pyromaniac. In Australia." A bit of a given, "Then he was a student in that peaceful Xavier's place where all the hippies run off to, then he runs off to be a terrorist with the Brotherhood, then goes off the radar for awhile, and then tries to kill his own monkey boss before being arrested."

"Wow."

"And that _woman_. First she's a lab rat, then a renegade, then an outlaw with the Brotherhood of bloody Mutants, and then she joins the X-Men all high and mighty, and then she comes back to the Brotherhood not a _week_ after with her tail between her bloody legs before going insane. Again. Then going to jail."

"Okay.. um, what?"

"You asked, love." I blushed at the whole 'love' bit and decided to ask more questions about my indecisive parents.

"Um, who's Xavier? What's the Brotherhood? Are the X-Men somehow related to Xavier and what do you mean _lab rat_?"

"Charles Xavier, still alive to this day. He's this rich bald man in a wheelchair who's taken it on as his duty to protect the unprotected, provide a home to the homeless, all with stock credits and inheritance. The man is a bloody saint. But deep inside his large mansion is a team of superheroes called the X-Men, who've brought it on themselves to wear full body leather suits and protect the world from evil, a fashion that's caught on like bad hair in the eighties. Only with more spandex and brighter colors, if possible." He shuttered, remembering the horrors of the eighties. Whatever they were.

"So, Wanda and John, they're... superheroes?"

"Well, not exactly superheroes, but part of the reason why there was such a drastic change in the world in the past twenty years. Them, the X-Men, and the Brotherhood of Mutants."

"The whatta what?"

"A bloody large group of supers headed by Magneto. John, Pyro, was actually second in command with Mystique following right behind."

"Who's Magneto? And Mystique?" My history teacher sighed.

"Mystique was a blue female shapeshifter, an assassin and spy all in one, the perfect terrorist. And undoubtfully loyal to Magneto's cause, but not Magneto himself."

"What was Magneto's cause?"

"Mutant superiority. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? He was scarred as a young boy, a Polish Jew imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp." I may not know anything about the Super history, but I knew about what humans have done to each other.

"That's awful. But wasn't that hundreds of years ago?"

"He's found ways of living for a long time." He said with a secretive smirk.

"So he's a jilted super?"

"Supers weren't loved like they are now. They were hated and feared, because they were strange and powerful. They didn't call them supers until recently. They were more fondly referred to as freaks or mutants. I mean, if you thought the only superheroes were in comics, and then you found out people could fly and really shoot lasers from their eyes, how would you react?"

"I'd think it'd be pretty awesome."

"Not everyone has your view. They were afraid the people with laser vision would burn them up and the people with super strength would crush them."

"Oh."

"Wanda and John, the Scarlet Witch and Pyro, are one of the few mutants who made a name for themselves in both glory and hatred."

"Wow."

"First John was in the X-Men after his parents burned down in flames, then when he was in his teenage years he joined the Brotherhood. After the incident in Alcatraz, all thought him dead until Wanda stopped him from killing her father.

"I'm not exactly sure how Wanda ended up with Magneto, but I think they found her while she was being experimented on by this foul man, Essex. I think that when he found out she was his daughter, he felt guilty for abandoning her and leaving her to whither up into the mess that she was. So he brainwashed her and implanted fake memories in her head to make her happier."

"That's horrible."

"That's life. Around that time a weak Pyro burst into their headquarters and tried to kill Magneto, who he blamed for his misfortune. Wanda, a powerful mutant, easily stopped him, but didn't kill him. Eventually, after a lot of meetings and soap opera like talks, the two fell in love.

"Magneto didn't like that, of course, and tried to stop it. Pyro still hated him, and what if the implanted memories weren't as strong as he thought?"

"They weren't, were they?"

"Nope, crumbled like a paper mache wall and Wanda hated him. The two loathed him in peace, or atleast tried to. The sparks and fire alerted the police and they were all arrested. But Wanda was pregnant. She was put in a special holding cell until she gave birth to her baby."

He walked behind his desk, taking out a dusty old frame with a white piece of paper inside the glass, "Here, I got this a few years back from an old witch. Just think the name and you'll get a picture." He blew on it and slowly lines started to appear, colors spilling onto the blank paper and forming into one of the most beautiful works of art she's ever seen.

I stared at the beautifully drawn picture, a woman who looked like she was in her teens with her hands glowing bright red, an angry expression on her face with black and red leather to only boost her intimidation factor. And a man, around her age, brown hair with bleached tips hanging in his face as fire shot out of his hand. He was dressed almost casually, in a grunge outfit that I always dreamed everyone could wear. Kind of like how Warren dressed.

But as I stared at them, I knew they weren't lying to me. I already knew they were telling the truth, but this was... This was more than proof. I saw myself in them.

My golden eyes shined brightly in John's face, my jaw and nose an exact replica of Wanda. My brown hair was from John, with Wanda's slight wave, my bony fingers from Wanda. Both of them were a little short compared to the blurred figures around them, but still lean. And Wanda's neck seemed to go on forever, just like mine when I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to see how far it could stretch. Which wasn't very far, since it was impossible to stretch a neck.

They were my parents, resembling me far more than when I would look at a picture of my old parents, wondering how gold eyes could come from icy blue and murky brown. How sharp and pointed could come from a square shaped and round face.

"What happened to the baby?"

Was it just luck that I landed in a house with parents that had powers? Did they know my biological parents?

"Who knows? If you ask my opinion, that Xavier man has it, trying to live as normal a life as it can under a false name. I know a couple of his students went off to live together, one or two pairs with children, but I'm thinking the little bugger was a pyro just like it's father. One couple died in an enormous fire in their own house. Who knows where it is now." He said it with a bit of wonder, probably hoping to discover who the baby was himself.

"Uh..." I'm tearing up a bit, aren't I? "I have to get to gym, it's Save the Citizen."

"Oh, right. Completely lost track of myself." He started scribbling on a yellow piece of paper. "If anyone gives you any trouble, just hand them this and blame it all on me, okay? I was talking to you about your latest report." He winked with a rogue grin.

"Thank you."

So the world wasn't always this stereotypical hellhole focused on bright colors and good and evil. "Mutants" were to regular folks as the Nazis were to the rest of the world. Hated and feared. Except they weren't evil. Were they? I don't remember this being in the History books. It's like they were trying to forget everything that happened and just shoved it aside. Like how people act happy with rainbow clouds when they feel like killing themselves.

Strange.

It's kinda cool, though, knowing that this living cheesy comic book is just one big giant lie.

I'm still a little messed up, I guess.

* * *

My mouth was nailed shut when I got to the gym, dressing up silently in the abandoned locker room and sneaking into the gym. Coach Boomer never took role, seeing as the whole school was crammed inside the enormous gym, and Save the Citizen didn't start yet because everyone didn't shut up yet. 

I could vaguely see my "friends" giving me strange looks from rows and bleachers away as I sat next to quiet bus buddy who was mourning after the bleached boy who was laughing with a bunch of other guys about nothing.

"Be quiet!" Boomer yelled, stunning all the students into silence.

"Good. Stronghold! Thompson! Pick your partners!"

Who the heck was Thompson?

I saw Quinn throw both arms up and yell Molly's name before running off to get changed.

"Good luck." I said to quiet bus girl who smiled meekly before getting changed.

"Emily!" Will said desperately, apparently thinking my track record meant something when facing the bleached boy.

"Patriotic boy say what?" I yelled furiously, turning my head to glare at him. Glare # 5.2 to be exact. That was "I'm going to kill you and scream like a banshee while chopping you up with a butcher knife" glare. Glare # 5.1 was "I'm going to kill you and laugh insanely while chopping you up with a switchblade, shoving you in a blender, and hitting puree."

Glare 5.1 included a bit of a smirk.

"Perkins! Suit up!"

Ooh, I am going to kill Captain Patriotic-Pants.

I met up with Molly in the locker rooms, who was just finishing tying up her shoes and went into the supply closet with all the different armor.

Hmmm... Should I grab a bigger size for the chest piece compared to normal? I noticed that puberty was kicking in more than usual, even though I thought I was all done growing in eighth grade. I finished picking out the white fireproof/bulletproof/shatterproof/everythingproof armor pieces and noticed that Molly was still there, waiting for me with a little smile.

Aw, we're friends.

"So, Molly, what's your power?" Her eyes widened with a little surprise, probably shocked that I knew her name despite our lack of ever talking, and her smile widened a little.

"I make dreams."

I frowned. What the heck did that mean? Probably something hypnotic. Note to self: When in battlefield, do not look her in the eyes.

"Well, whatever that may mean, may the better fighter win, eh?"

She smiled and nodded a bit.

"Okay," I said, my armor locked into place, "Let's go kick each other's asses."

"So what's the game plan?" Will asked me when I met him on the arena.

"What the hell are you on? You're the one that picked me, I figured that you would have some idea of what we were going to do."

"Well, I would have picked Warren, but I figured that since you were the only one who's spoken to Thompson you would be a better match."

"Well, I'm glad that you have some ounce of strategy in your red, white, and blue colored mind, but me actually knowing what one of them can do ain't gonna help! Molly's some bad ass girl who's probably gonna beat us in the first five seconds. We're the heroes, right?"

He nodded silently.

"Okay, so we should probably focus on shutting Quinn up first, okay? If I get a little fire, then I might be able to surround him and drown out his voice while you fly up and get the stupid doll, okay?" We, or I, had my voice at a whisper, making sure our opponents couldn't hear us. We had five minutes before the timer would start, allowing us to prepare. Slightly.

"Great. You can make fire, right?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Are you nuts? I'm a pyrokinetic, not a flame thrower like Peace! Learn the terms! I don't make fire, I control it!"

"So how are we going to get fire?"

"How the hell should I know?"

The stereotypical American teenager cast a glance towards his best friend who was looking as antisocial and menacing as usual, if not more so. Even though he would never admit it, he knew that the hotheaded hero in training was a little angry that his lunch buddy hadn't so much as looked at him the moment the girl walked in late.

Maybe if he made dramatic hand gestures, Warren would light up a spark that could help them.

"Interpretive dance will not help matters, weirdo."

"I'm trying to get Warren to make a spark."

"Ah..." That would actually work. If he made a light, then I could make it fly through the air and over the everything proof glass separators. Ignoring the pathetic boy who resorted to jazz hands, I stared into the eyes of the chuckling fire maker and pointed to my hand in the place where he had his fire tattoos and then motioned towards him.

Ha, I beat Patriotic Boy with a minute to spare.

Warren flicked his hand, a small, barely noticeable fire on his fingertips and I smirked, making a grabbing motion in my hand and watching as it lept off his finger and hovered over my fingertips.

This is not pleasant. At all.

Right now, forced into the revelation that my parents weren't really my parents, looking at the small flame floating, flickering, all I could hear were screams twisting with a haunting melody. A lullaby my not-really mother would hum to me, words long forgotten before they ever reached my ears.

"Emily, stop humming! The game is about to start!"

I would tell him to call me by my last name, but I'm not even sure what it is anymore.

I saw the timer start on the board in that annoyingly red alarm clock fashion and motioned my wrist towards my opponents across the arena, surrounding Quinn in a blaze of fire (not close enough to burn him, of course. I'm not that cruel) before he could even open his mouth.

"Ha! Try and tell an inanimate object to stop!" I huffed, drowning out the memories that came with the mix of red and yellow and focusing on keeping it contained no matter what it wanted to do. Little freak couldn't tell me to kiss him now.

Since I was a brilliant strategist, I cast a glance to my other opponent and saw her eye glowing a cloudy white. Wasn't I telling myself not to look into her eyes before?

The screaming grew ten times louder and everything around me changed into a flaming inferno, familiar planks of wood falling around me. I couldn't put it in the back of my mind. I couldn't ignore my not-really parents. No- They were my parents, no matter what any blood tests would say, and right now they were dying.

"Mom?" I yelled, wondering if Molly had some magical time travelling powers, "Dad? Where are you!?"

I brushed away my unsinged hair and looked frantically around the house. My powers weren't working, the fire was too big, it wasn't obeying me. Why couldn't I control it? Where were they? Were they still searching for that little girl dancing with the flames, singing her mother's lullaby?

Was I too late?

I fell down onto my knees and sobbed into my hands. No matter how many years had gone by, the tears would never run out. I was just a stupid, sobbing mess of a wimpy girl who needed her mommy and daddy, no matter how tough I tried to act.

"Wake up..." A voice whispered, drenched in sadness, and my surroundings changed again. I was back inside the arena, the floor covered in flames. Stronghold was behind the glass with a shocked Quinn and a trembling Molly at either side, students crowding them, babying them, staring at me in fear.

I was on my knees, tears that were quickly dissolving in the fire still rushing down my cheeks. Must every single second of my life be filled with drama, fainting, and tears?

I scowled, wiping away any tears that thought they could stay on my face since they survived the heat of the fire. My hands touched the ground, fire licking my skin and burning off the dark blue nailpolish. Damn, that was my first manicure!

I closed my eyes and breathed in as I felt my body absorb the fire, once again pushing away the torturous screams that were solely reserved for good quality horror movies. I always had a thing for sensing where fire was at any moment, and sighed in relief when I managed to absorb all the fire. Then the sigh turned into a hiccup, a little smoke coming out of my mouth.

"And the heroes lose!" Coach Boomer said after a very long, very drawn out awkward pause that filled the whole stadium with whispers."Everyone, early dismissal."

Great, now I get to be bombarded by everyone at once instead of trying to cut class after changing in solitude.

I sent out Glare # 3.0, which meant "Come near me and die", and as I walked out of the arena the wave of students parted like the red sea. Except I wasn't as calm and collected as Moses. If I could make fire, my back would probably be steaming right now. In fact, from all the fire I absorbed, which I didn't know I could do, my back probably was steaming.

Nobody seemed to be heading for the locker rooms. Or atleast the girls weren't, probably too afraid I would roast their asses off.

"Emily?" The same sad, timid voice that woke me up from my nightmare, and caused it, rang out from behind me as I was ripping off the armor and cursing my singed clothing.

"Yeah?" I asked harshly, imagining her wince and rethink her actually speaking, "What do you want?" I tried to sound more gentle, despite some hidden violent side in me wanting to rethink my pyrophobia and take a leaf out of Peace's book.

"I'm so sorry about what happened," She gushed, seeming about ready to burst into tears, "I just picked up the dream that was closest to the surface. I thought you would start eating your hand like it was a giant marshmallow."

"Whatever," I muttered, dressing in my own clothes despite her being right behind me. Teenagers just have to deal with everyone seeing you half naked, "You didn't know. Not many people do. It was a competition, and it was your obligation to try and stop me at any costs."

"I'm still sorry about what happened to your parents."

My grip tightened on my jacket, the zipper digging in to my hand.

"Yeah. So am I."

* * *

"Who died?" 

I rolled my eyes. The library was no longer safe.

Looking up, I saw the glowing face of the godly being Quinn. Note the sarcasm.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, other than the rather scary display in Save the Citizen where you almost killed me, you've managed to further darken your already menacing wardrobe to just black, and your eye gunk-"

"Eye _makeup_-"

"Is twice as big and blacker then black. So I think something really shitty must've happened."

"Something shitty really did happen."

He looked at me expectantly, willing me to elaborate further.

"My dad isn't my dad. And my parents who were my parents before my dad aren't really related to me."

"You're adopted?" Was that the only thing he understood?

"I don't really know. But if I am, it makes me feel even worse being adopted twice than just once. I mean, they took me in, and I-" When did I start crying? God, I'm an emotional wreck. I fainted for the first time yesterday. Twice. And now I'm blubbering like a cartoon monkey. What kinda girl is that pathetic?

"Relax." A fuzzy relaxing wave washed over me before my undeniable anger brushed it off.

"Whoa, no initiating the fuzzy feelings when I'm sad! It's creepy." I shook my head and put back on my black jeep hat and matching sunglasses. As in black. I even traded my blue bag for my black one. How sad am I? "I'm out of here."

"Hey, wait a sec," He grabbed her arm, not using his powers for once, "I get what you're going through, I've been through thousands of foster homes. And no matter how grateful you try to be, you just can't stop hurting everyone around you."

"Let me guess, you made it a habit to hypnotize everyone?"

"Don't hate! I'm only just getting a handle on this whole power thing." I laughed at him holding his hands up in that 'I surrender!' pose. Hey, I smiled. "Hey, you smiled."

"I noticed."

The bell rang and I reached for my bag, a blush staining my cheeks at the realization that he, Quinn the blonde jerk, made me smile when I was trying pretty damn hard to be depressed.

"Thanks for the pep talk, Mr. Cool. I'll see you in Art."

"You know, if you want to talk, you could eat lunch with me. My friends meet in front of the school, but if you want we can go hide out back."

"You have friends?" I teased, knowing full well I wouldn't show up. I couldn't talk about it, I didn't even want to remember it.

"Yes. And by their choice."

"Don't get your hopes up, Simon. I plan on going off into my own little dreamworld for the rest of the day."

"Simon?"

"Yeah, like Simon says. It fits your powers perfectly, doesn't it?" He chuckled before getting a serious look in his eyes and leaning dangerously close to my face, "Whoa! Back off, Simon!" What was with him and trying to kiss me?

"You weren't feeling the moment?" He asked, looking kind of embarrassed.

"No! I thought you had Molly!"

"Well, she's nice, but..." He shrugged, looking around, his cheeks tinged with red.

"But what, Mr. Smoochy?"

He snorted a little at the nickname. Do not laugh at me, Mr. I-Go-Around-Trying-To-Kiss-Everyone-I-Can-Get-My-Hands-On-Regardless-Of-My-Powers!

"She's not you." His eyes were so adorable when he said that, with his scruffy white hair and adorable face. I would make a big 'aw' and pinch his cheeks if I weren't so sure that my face was bright red.

"Um, I have to go. To class." I mumbled before running away.

* * *

"Tisk tisk, Miss Perkins." 

My eye twitched, ruining the calm of my Lotus Position. Ms. Wind, the yoga teacher in disguise as a 'Powers Development' teacher, didn't make the actual sound of tsking, but rather said the actual word, tisk. That annoyed me to no end.

"Yes, Ms. Wind?" I asked in an unbelievably sugary tone, preparing for glare # 1.2, which was "I'm going to kill you with a smile", a more cheery version of glare # 5.1 yet less extreme. This glare didn't care for the exposal of the body. It was that hardcore.

"I heard about you losing your control in Gym." She said with a smile, as if it was some silly mistake like tripping and accidentally sending a fire to scorch her "center", stupid hippie woman.

I'm a little violent when I'm stressed.

"That wasn't my fault." I growled.

"Regardless of who's 'fault'," She did sickening air quotes, "It was, I would prefer if you worked on your self-control in the corner, meditating separately from the rest of the class."

I stood up, composed myself, and walked to the corner of the room and did that upside down version of the criss cross apple sauce. Yes, that's what I call it.

Peace, quiet, tranquility. Peace, quiet, tranquility.

"And now do the three point stance, children. Find your center, feel the energy pulse through you."

This isn't working.

Screams broke out, along with the sound of explosions, and my eyes snapped open, seeing the ceiling lights explode with a red glow, sending white sparks everywhere.

"Children! Calmly exit the room!" Ms. Wind screamed, running out of the room with the rest of the class, me trailing behind a little to look at the sparking lights.

"What was the probability of that happening?" Asked a student as everyone spread out in the hallway.

Wanda could alter probability... Make anything happen...

* * *

"Hello, beautiful." A striped arm had in hand a single blue rose, a seemingly romantic gesture. 

"I'm not in the mood, Stretch." I growled, walking past him and his pretty flower. It was probably fake, anyway.

"I overreacted yesterday. I shouldn't have tried to beat up Peace." Not exactly the heartfelt apology I was expecting. And he's in my way again, blocking the entrance to the library with his stretch arms.

"Like I said, I'm not in the mood."

"I pissed you off that much?"

"Well, I'm pissed at you, but something else came up and I'm _really_ not in the mood. Now, can I please get past you so I can brood in peace?"

"Is this girl bothering you, Lash?" The mean senior with the pigtails came from nowhere, flocked with two clones of her by her side. Copper... something... I'm horrible with names.

"Other way around, smart one."

"What do you see in this _freshman _anyway?" The clone flocking her left scoffed.

"I'm one of the few who doesn't hate him for almost ruining everyone's lives in this school, yet does not throw myself at him. Like you probably do." I smiled sweetly and ducked as one of them jumped at me, watching as one of Lash's stretchy arms held back all three girls. Like a giant restricting blanket. And then I slipped inside the library.

Bless her heart... With evil Wiccan curses and damn her for eternity.

Maybe now I could have lunch in private.

And maybe I spoke too soon.

My purple adorned aquaintance sat on the chair in front of me, a semi-angry expression on her face.

"Warren's sad that you're avoiding him." Sad?

"What are you getting at, my magenta coated friend"

"Well, he didn't actually say it, but you can tell he's brooding at his little lunch table without you there. Just thought I'd come here and tell you."

"How did you know I'm here, anyway?"

"Because nobody in their right minds would go to a library unless they wanted to avoid someone."

"I'm not avoiding him." I'm avoiding everyone. And failing horribly at it.

"Right, and I don't spend half my time as a purple guinea pig."

"A very adorable guinea pig, though."

She sneered.

"I'm going to ignore that and not beat you up if you go to Warren and apologize. Or just talk to him."

You know, Magneta was very menacing at times. Like now.

"I'll just go do that then. Now. Bye!"

And I ran away like the coward I was.

And down the yellow brick road I go, slipping into the cafeteria unnoticed and sitting in front of the slightly steaming fire maker.

"Warren?" I asked timidly, suddenly afraid of one of the only friends I had in this school.

"What?" He growled, sounding a teensy bit more pissed then usual.

"Magenta said you think that I'm ignoring you and that you're sad."

"I'm not," He growled, reading his book.

"Neither am I. Avoiding you, that is. Not the sad part. Because I am sad, which is why I'm avoiding everyone. Not just you."

He sighed, putting away Pride and Prejudice, one of the big heavy books I never even tried to get through. Too many words. Like Scarlet Letter. I shudder at Scarlet Letter.

"Is this about last night? Because I made it clear that Lash is a selfish asshole and doesn't deserve-"

"No, no, it's not about the dance. It's about last night, and pretty much every night in my light, but..." I looked around at everyone, knowing they were trying really hard not to look at me but trying pretty damn hard to listen in. "I got a phone call, after the dance, and it concerned that one topic I told you about. At the dance."

I looked at him, pleading to forgive me in my expression, probably looking a little constipated.

"You don't have to tell me." He concluded, opening his book again with a little smile that hardly anyone would be able to catch.

Glad that he didn't hate me, I practically collapsed on the table, my head melting into my arms. Maybe if I buried myself deep enough into my own little shadow, I'd be invisible to everyone and my problems would, in turn, be invisible to me.

Ostriches had it so easy.

Author's Note: Whoo! That took awhile. Poor Emily! She's so traumatized! But atleast she has Warren and, apparently, Quinn to help her through everything.

I'm sorry if this chapter was really long, but everyone probably likes long satisfying chapters, right? I felt Captain Jack rambled a bit too much in the beginning, though... He didn't sound like the drunken pirate in the movies, but I guess that the centuries had changed him. And yes, he is Captain Jack Sparrow.


	19. Turn Your Light Off

I was going to meet my parents. 

After a long talk with my step dad and a few murmured words on my part, my biological birth parents decided they wanted to meet me. Well, that was obvious, but... Everything seemed to be going way too fast.

So I was standing here, in a stuffy old Chinese restaurant, urging myself to walk inside. Because, frankly, the rest of my body felt perfectly content to mimic a statue. A stone statue. A very heavy stone statue.

"Just one foot in front of the other," I sang to myself quietly, inching forward like a baby, "And soon you'll be walking cross the floor! Just one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out the door!"

I made it in. I looked around the abandoned restaurant to see an old woman peeling those white and yellow string bean things and a relatively young couple talking to each other and looking as if they were waiting for someone.

I wonder which ones are my parents?

"Oh, _hell _no." I blurted out as soon as I stood a few feet away from them and saw the lack of wrinkles on their faces.

The man had shaggy brown hair casually tossed back and bright amber eyes that reminded me of fire who resembled a movie star in the fact that he looked effortlessly gorgeous. Yes. I'm saying that about the man who I think is my father. In fact, they both looked like movie stars.

The woman was gorgeous, and I say that in a completely straight non-incest way. She had chin length black hair and wine red lips with bright blue eyes, looking more striking than any portrait could ever capture.

At least they both had rings on their fingers.

"Please tell me you're not Wanda and John Allerdyce."

"Nice to finally see you too, wonderful daughter of mine." John said sarcastically, "And watch your fucking language until you're a senior, freshman."

Wanda slapped her husband and smiled, "What he means is watch your fucking language until college. Now sit down."

I cautiously took a seat in the booth across from them and looked warily at the two of them.

"And just _how _old are you?

"Thirty three." They both answered in unison.

"I'm fourteen! You had me when you were nineteen?"

"Hey, my baby's smart!" John said proudly.

"Unlike you." Wanda muttered under her breath before feeling the need to explain her getting knocked up, "It wasn't really planned at the time."

"Hey, you're as old as my dad." I breathed out, little tiny puzzle pieces sticking together in my head.

"Iceballs." He said, all the happiness leaving him. "Him and Kitty Cat finally hit the bucket, huh?"

"Please excuse my sorry excuse for a husband. He had a hate love relationship with Bobby." She waved her hands as if brushing away whatever problem she had with it and took a sip of her water.

"Fire against water." He grumbled.

"In the form of best friends." Wanda scoffed, "It's too bad he died before you two could make up."

In a fire that I never said I started. Ever. Except to Warren.

"Um..." I mumbled.

"Sorry." Wanda said with a sigh, "I just always hoped you'd get my powers."

"What are your powers?"

"I can alter probability."

"Nyeh?" I asked, cocking my head to the side.

"I access chaos magic."

"Simply put, please?"

"She makes impossible things happen." John answered, taking over for his wife.

"Like what?" I asked, a feeling of dread coming over me.

"Well, if I focus, I can cut off someone's ability to access their powers, bend lamp posts, and possess a broom to wipe the floor for me.

"Um, can you..." I bit my lip, lowering my eyes to my glass of water, "Melt shoes to the floor? Just by thinking of it?"

"With a flick of my wrist, a man's shoes would be stuck to the floor and his pants would be dancing the conga around him. When I was younger and my powers were still maturing, lights would explode out of nowhere. Why?"

"No reason. Just wondering."

"I sound so boring next to you." John pouted.

"Don't worry, honey, we all know you don't wear the pants in the relationship." John grimaced at the low shot and I cocked my head to the side. Did he swing both ways or something?

Wanda smirked.

John paled.

"Hey, have you ever heard of Joan D. Sether?"

"Yeah, she's this famous Gothic romance novelist with an obsession for fire. No one knows where she came from or who she really is, but she's been releasing novels on and off for the last fifteen years. A bit graphic but still a good read." I looked at the blushing man and the smirking woman, "Oh _hell _no."

"Is that your catch phrase or something?" John grumbled irritably.

"Tonight it is. Oh my god, my daddy's a female novelist. What, did you take some letters from your name and rearrange them so you could write hot steamy Gothic novels?" Wow, I was right on the dot. Men aren't so creative, yet they can write things like...

"You're not allowed to read things like that."

"Why, shouldn't I read my daddy's work?" Wanda cracked up just in time for the waiter to come take our orders.

The waiter was Warren Peace.

"Oh _hell _no."

"If you're going to swear, you might as well say fuck, sweetie." Wanda sighed, and it was John's turn to do the slapping.

Water from his glass just happened to spray his eyes as he tried to drink it.

"Sorry, honey."

"Damn straight you are. Never hit your woman."

"Aren't you all about gender equality? How come you hit me and I can't hit you back?"

"You're saying you _want _to hurt me?"

"No, of course not!" Wanda rolled her eyes and with a twitch of her finger John's hair was immediately in two bows at either side of his head.

"You're a girl now, it's safe to hit me." John rolled his eyes this time and ripped the bows out of his hair, shaking his head like a dog to return it to it's normal state of horror.

Warren watched this obvious display of power with a raised eyebrow before turning to me, the embarrassed teenager, with his raised eyebrow.

"Are you three ready to order?"

"Chow mein."

"Kung Pao chicken."

"Sweet and sour pork, and can I get a jug of warm sake?"

"Emily!" Both my "parents" shouted at once.

"Fine, fine, have the warm sake in a shot glass, but keep them coming, Peace." Warren shook his head and walked away.

"You're not in a bar, save the underage drinking for when we're not here." Wanda glared at John, "I mean never. Not until you're twice as old as we are."

"But that'll never happen unless you two stay that old forever."

"Are you calling me old?" Wanda asked.

"God, y'all are crazy."

"Oh god, my daughter's a country hick. Quick, test if you can still touch her. I don't want another Rogue on my hands." John said quickly, patting my cheek.

I swatted his hand away and found myself laughing even though I had no clue what he was talking about.

"So, for a pyrokinetic you're sure wearing a lot of non firey colors." Wanda surveyed, "I thought our kid would only wear red." I looked at them and noticed, hey, they're both wearing only black and red.

"She was raised by Iceballs." John said as if that were an excuse as to where their child went wrong.

"Uh, well, I don't really like... fire." John fell out of the booth, despite the fact that it was a _booth_ before quickly shaking himself off and sitting down again.

"What?" He asked.

"Well, I didn't really feel all that well about killing my parents with it." I snapped.

"So you decided to change everything about you so you wouldn't be reminded of your parents?" John said as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

"What's it to you?" I huffed.

"We're your parents, and despite circumstances that kept us away from you for the past fourteen years,"

"Like insane mutant terrorist parents for example. Wanda's side, of course, not mine," John whispered, winking slightly, "And of course, jail."

"We still love you and we do know how to relate to quote unquote young people." She said, lifting her hands to do the airquotes.

"You just made us sound old, honey."

"Then why were you two married if you didn't want kids?" I asked, referring to our first conversation, "Let me guess, it was a fun idea at the time."

"We weren't married at the time." Wanda explained.

"We were two stupid kids in love who weren't prepared for having a child."

"Well, we wanted a kid."

"Or atleast she did." Wanda glared, "Okay I did too, but you try having Magneto as your father in law."

"Not to mention the fact that we were kind of terrorists in the eyes of the law and were arrested right when we found out we were going to have you."

"You were better off with the X-Men." So Mr. Sparrow was right.

"I thought you were with the Brotherhood, not the X-Men."

"We were, but we got out last minute and made amends with the leather supporters." John smirked.

"And despite us basically saving the world, we were still arrested. Everyone in the Brotherhood, past or present, was shoved in jail. Like the government just didn't want anything to do with us."

"It was embarrassing, actually."

"Then, once the 'bad guys' were gone, this idiot Captain America wannabe and his perky little sidekick, fresh out of this high school who wanted to cash in on Xavier's overflowing jackpot made only for the finest of mutants, started saving kittens from trees and all this crap and the world quickly turned into the stereotypical comic book, categorizing people as either good or evil." Wanda explained and I nodded my head.

Wow, her words were so true. Screw Fiona Apple, this woman was my new role model.

"Wait. You were arrested?" Well, I already knew that, but I just had to verify.

"Yup. Just got out a few months ago on good behavior. And Xavier's pay check. He always did try and spoil me." Wanda smiled from some distant memory.

"But.. You said that was right after you found out."

"Ah, our baby's a smart one." John smiled a bit.

"Obviously she didn't get it from you."

"So I was born in a jail?" I feel... tainted for some reason. Probably because I was born surrounded by angry thugs with numerous tattoos devoted to their mothers.

"It looks just like a hospital from the inside, sweetie."

"Food's ready." Warren placed my parents food in front of them, "I'll be right back with your food, Perkins."

Wanda watched the boy walk away with a smirk.

"So, he's pretty cute." She probably just wanted to change the subject.

"Wanda!" I said, shocked. I couldn't say mom yet.

"What? And he seems to know you."

"We go to school together."

"I can't believe you're part of that stereotypical hell hole. Not as good as the Institute. Our gym teacher didn't wear shorts, thank you." John said, digging into his noodles while Wanda waited for her daughter to get her meal, like a polite person.

"Yeah, you should see that hunk of immortal adamantium clawed yumminess. I _wish _he would wear shorts."

John glared, Wanda smirked, and I needed to get off the subject of 'yummy' gym teachers.

"Yes, I go to Sky High. What's the Institute?"

"The place where the X-Men came from."

"What's his power?" Wanda asked suddenly, nodding towards wherever Warren was.

"He's a flame thrower."

"Wow, a perfect match." Wanda said sarcastically, but still with a huge smirk.

Warren appeared again and I dug in immediately with a blush, but not before noticing something, "Where's the stuff I can get hammered off of?"

"I'm not letting you get drunk." Warren said with a sigh, "Drink the water and hope that it'll magically turn into beer."

"Responsible and cute," Wanda gushed fondly as John choked on his food, "Sit down." Wanda said as more of a demand then a request.

Warren looked around, noticed absolutely no one in the restaurant, and sighed, sitting down next to me. I blushed and scooted as far away as possible, focusing on my food and not the embarrassing conversation that was bound to happen.

"So, I'm Emily's mother."

"Okay." Warren said, frowning a little at how young she looked. Were they resurrected?

"And I couldn't help but notice how you stared at my daughter's breasts whenever you came to the table." I blushed and hit my head on the wall next to me while John just settled for glaring at Warren at that newfound information, "And I can't blame you, I guess she takes after me."

"No, I got my boobs from my father." I groaned sarcastically in between hits.

Warren, surprisingly taking this all well, yanked on my arm to prevent me from reaching the wall.

I pouted and crossed my arms, frowning. A lot.

"You're a cruel mom. I just met you and already you're as embarrassing as the old man at home. Only you're the opposite." It's like she wants me to have unprotected sex, contract AIDS, and die from all sicknesses at once.

"So, either you're lusting after my daughter, or you have actual romantic feelings for my daughter along with lust. Judging from how you stopped her from bashing her head in, I guess it's the second choice. That and you look too sweet to just be some horny teenager. Which is fine by me, just wait to knock her up. You might have to give her up for adoption and get married surrounded by your cellmates." Okay, bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

"Wanda, we're just friends. I can't help it if my shirt's low cut."

"Actually-"

"Warren, shut up." I elbowed him. Was he about to say something about how I had a choice to dress like a hooker or not? I don't dress like a hooker. I dress like a conservative slut. Not that I am either. Or am I?

"Doesn't that remind you of when we were kids?" John said, reminiscing.

"You would say a smart ass comment and I would hurt you for it?"

"Oh god, my parents are crazy." I turned to the waiter beside me, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you worked here, and I didn't know my parents were insane. I just like chinese food, it's a guilty pleasure."

"Usually people know these things. These are the foster parents you were talking about? I thought they were old. And dying."

"We're not her _foster _parents, we're her actual parents." Wanda sniffed.

"Long story." I sighed, "Want some of the food from your own restaurant?"

"No thanks, I already ate." He said, deciding that her parents were indeed resurrected.

"Then why are you still here?" John growled.

"Because I want the two of them to date." Wanda answered for him.

"Have you been talking to Rogue lately?"

"So what if I have?"

"Just checking. Is she still with the Cajun?" Ooh, I love Cajun food. It's all spicy and I love that Jambalaya man's accent on the little box. Although I think it's suburbanized, de-spiced Cajun food, because I still have to add a hell of a lot of pepper.

"Yeah, and he can still beat you up even without using his powers to kinetically castrate you."

"Damn."

I finished my meal, listening to my parent's overall strange conversation and putting in a word here and there. Warren stayed the whole entire time since Wanda always refused to let him go.

God, my parents were strange.

"Aren't you Pyro and the Scarlet Witch?" Warren said suddenly.

"Finally he recognized us." Wanda sighed, "Tell me, was it all the red that gave us away, or was it because I used my powers on him twice to embarrass him and Emily has the power to control fire?" Huh, I could be a flamethrower you know. Just because it's fire related doesn't mean that I have the exact powers as him. Hmph.

"I recognized the name. They did a lecture on you two for History class. Apparently the location of your illegitimate child is a complete mystery since she was taken away at birth."

"Did anyone call me a bastard?" I asked warily.

"No."

"Okay, you have permission not to die."

Author's Note: Yay, she finally met her actual parents.

So, unfortunately, the song that I have been naming all the chapters after (Strange Day - Fade) only has one more line. Or word. So, the story will come to an end extremely soon. But don't worry, there'll be a sequel as soon as I think of a plot.


	20. Fade

"My curfew is in ten minutes." I said, glancing at the clock. I've been putting off those words for half an hour, the second to last word changing as the time went by. I found my parents... fun. Weird, right? Everyone who raised me were law abiding good two shoes, yet my personality seemed to be hereditary or something.

"Your curfew is at nine? That sucks." John said. I wish he controlled my curfew.

"Our place is in the opposite direction, so-" I cut Wanda off with a suspicious glance.

"How do you know where I live?" She turned red. I bet she didn't really know and she was just saying that to set her evil plan in motion.

"I, uh, guessed. So why doesn't Warren drive you home?"

He slowly nodded, probably afraid of what she could do to him. Pigtails did not suit his manliness.

So we paid the bill and gathered in a clump outside the restaurant, saying our tearful goodbyes.

As in Warren was putting away his apron and Wanda and John were insulting each other while I stood next to them and laughed, little mental whipping noises going off in my heads directed towards John.

Warren came out just as I was about to comment on how whipped John was, in all his manly glory with his hair no longer pulled back. I liked his hair pulled back...

Whoa, what just happened? Did I swoon a little? Gotta snap out of my horny.

"So where are you guys staying?"

"Plaza Hotel." John smirked, "Xavier's paying for everything, so we got a five star hotel."

"Way better than the crap we lived in when we were on the run." Wanda commented.

"Really? I thought the tent was kind of homey."

Tent? On the run?

"It was nice meeting you two." Warren said politely, shaking John's hand.

"And it was _very _nice meeting you." Wanda said, bringing him into a hug, "And remember, only kisses. Any more than that and I'll come after you."

Am I blushing?

"We'll keep that in mind, Wanda." I hugged both of them, glad that Wanda wasn't crying. She didn't seem like the crying type, "Warren, are you gonna drive me home now?"

Get away, get away, get _away_from the mother who wants me to kiss boys.

"I'm sorry about my parents." I said once I was sure they had driven away in their red mustang, "I could walk home if it's too much trouble for you."

"I heard that!" Wanda said magically... I thought I was whispering... "You're driving her!"

"Again, I'm sorry about my parents."

"Don't worry about it, I'll drive you home." He said in his normal grumbly voice. I loved that voice. It was so bad boy it gave my spine tingles.

I did not just say that. What is wrong with me? Please don't be a stupid lovesick teenager. I'll break down and cry. Wait... That would make me even more of a lovesick teenager of the stupid variety. Damn feelings.

"Okay." I squeaked as we approached what I thought to be God.

A motorbike.

A black motorbike.

And it was shiny too.

He got on as if it was nothing and offered me a helmet. A black one.

"What about you?" I asked, not caring much for helmet hair but not enjoying the idea of my brains splattered on the pavement.

"Head as hard as concrete. Came with the powers." He said, rumbling the beautiful engine of the beautiful bike.

Who am I kidding? This man is perfect.

"So." He yelled over the rumble of the motorcycle as we drove the short way to my house, "Parents?"

"Not the ones from the fire..." I spoke into his ear, hoping he could hear me, "I mean, of course not, they're dead. It turns out I was adopted before I thought I was adopted. Weird, right?"

"Not really." Was all he supplied. Okay, maybe he's not so perfect.

We stayed in silence for a couple more blocks, him being all warm and leathery, and me clinging to his jacket pockets because I've never actually ridden a motorcycle before. Yes, I'm a sort of poser. Looking all tough in my mini genuine leather biker jacket that I got for twenty bucks in a thrift store because some retard let something so beautiful go, and I never got someone to drive me around on a motorbike.

"It's okay, you know, if you like your biological parents." He said at a stop sign, choosing not to keep driving. "You're not betraying the couple who raised you if you call your parents mom and dad."

How did he know I was thinking that? I didn't even let the readers know about that!

"But.. If they're not my parents, then they're just a couple who took me in when I needed them... Who I killed."

"They're not just a couple who took you in. They're still your parents. You just have a few more now. Don't shut them out because you're afraid you'll love them." He was so awkward!

I hugged him from behind, choosing to release the awkward grip I had on his pockets.

"You're hugging me." He said, stating the obvious. The extremely obvious.

"Yes. I think I would know."

"If you were anyone else, I would roast you alive." He always knew just what to say.

"What makes me so special?" I asked into his neck, asking myself the same question about him.

"I can't hurt you." He said, his voice softening slightly from his normal grumble.

As we started to drive again, I smiled into him. I could feel a weight just flying off of my shoulders. I probably just lost a few pounds from that.

"And I bet you don't _want_ to hurt me, either. Not anymore, at least."

His silence was all the answer I needed as we drove off to my awaiting foster daddy.

Author's Note: It's a little short, but I thought it was a cute ending. The two of them driving off into the night on Warren's bike.  



	21. Valentines Day

_Valentine's Day._

_The... Valentine's day._

_I had a theory last year... A theory that only a lonely eighth grader could create._

_Valentine's Day... Was created by robots._

_Evil robots, bent on distracting the world completely._

_One half of the population would be giggling and leaping across the world with their boxes of chocolates and the hands of their lovers. And the rest of their lovers, of course, but they'd be holding hands. They're not crazy enough to amputate their significant others and put everything but their hands into a blender._

_I hope._

_And the other half would wallow in their own self pity, wondering what it was that was so wrong with them that they couldn't have a hand and some chocolate to skip with. Well, a hand that wasn't their own and chocolate that they didn't buy for themselves out of depression._

_And that's when the robots would attack!_

_Years into the future, the __other _depressed half would eventually off themselves out of loneliness! And then the first half would be too distracted and blinded by the bouquets of roses and chocolate that they wouldn't notice that every... single... chocolate is lined with poison!

_We would all die, and the robots would rejoice!_

_But when I warned Warren about it before school, just in case any of those silly teenage girls working for the robots surrounding him got any funny ideas, he laughed!_

_Well, he snorted._

_But it still hurt! And then he called me a lunatic and a shoved a burnt up chocolate kiss in my hands and walked off to Homeroom._

_I don't want no burnt chocolate!_

_And of course, being as stupid and cheesy as I am, I put the burnt up chocolate wrapped in equally burnt aluminum foil in my pocket. Because even though it's a pitiful little thing, I can't part with something that Warren the Great has given me._

_In fact, I don't think he's ever given me anything in the months that we've known each other. It's always me that's feeding him. I am done being a giver today! I'll just feed him the chocolate cake I made him yesterday and that'll be it._

_... Did I honestly just say that?_

_The robots are not going to have any pity on me this year._

**Author's Note:** What is this? Another chapter yet the story is complete? Tis an advertisement of the new story, who's name is not yet thought of. For those who were disappointed that Warren didn't become a man and get with Emily, rejoice! For I'm sure it'll happen eventually in the** sequel**.

So. This is officially** ended**. No more unexpected chapters. Stop reading already!


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